


Mysterium Inquitatis

by p4tr0ns4int



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More "Touch Me" (Video), Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Alternate Universe - Religious, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Basement Gerard Way, Blood, Blood Drinking, Catholic Guilt, Catholic Imagery, Death Threats, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Minor Character Death, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Religion, Religious Guilt, Slow Burn, Threats of Violence, Underage Drinking, Vampire Bites, Vampire Gerard Way, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Mikey Way, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p4tr0ns4int/pseuds/p4tr0ns4int
Summary: "Watching the sun finish setting through the dirty windows was decidedly depressing. It was only September, so it was still setting pretty late, but it served as a reminder that while Frank was stood behind a linoleum countertop, the rest of the world kept going. Things kept happening, and he wasn’t a part of any of them. He was living at home with his mother and working the 7-Eleven night shift and it didn’t look like that would be changing anytime soon."Frank Iero doesn't believe in hell. He doesn't believe in demons, or damnation, or eternal punishment. He thinks he believes in God, but that's hard when he's stuck working the night shift at a gas station at the age of 19, watching his life slip away.The weird boy that comes in late every night is a comfort, though.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 34
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

_“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”_

_(John 10:10)_

“I just think,” Said Frank, twirling the set of keys around his index finger, “That it’s very unfair of you to trust me with the night shift, but not to give me an employee discount on the beer.”

Brian scowled at him from the other side of the counter. “May I remind you that you are underage?”

“What, so there’s no law about me being here on my own all night, but I’m not allowed one bottle of beer?”

“Correct.” Brian grabbed the keys off of Frank’s fingers and started inspecting them.

Frank ran a hand through his hair, glancing out of the windows that ran the length of one side of the store, overlooking the gas station parking lot. Just past it, the odd car sped past in the orange evening light. He was taken out of his stupor by Brain snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“Yeah?”

“Are you listening to me?”

Frank nodded.

“Right. This one,” Brain pointed to the largest of the keys, “Is for the main door. This,” He pointed to a smaller silver one, “Is for the back door. No going for twenty minute smoke breaks out the back.”

Frank scowled, running a hand over the pack of cigarettes in the back pocket of his jeans. “Not even at, like, three in the morning?”

“No. Now,” Brian glanced around, looking for anything else he might have forgotten to do or say. “You get off at four. You know the drill, so just behave, please.”

“Brian, when have I ever let you down?” Frank grinned.

“Don’t make me list all the times.” As Brain shut the glass door behind him and left Frank on his own behind the counter, he leant forwards to rest his chin in his hand, staring back out through the window.

He hadn’t intended to turn a part time job for the summer into the only thing happening in his life; He’d planned to make enough money to get a band going, play some real gigs, maybe record something. He’d dropped out of college when it had looked like Pencey Prep might be going somewhere, but now he was stuck working at a gas station 7-Eleven with no qualifications. And on top of that, he’d now been put on the weekend night shift, so any social life he may have had would be gone. He needed the money, though. He needed money to keep trying at music, or money to go back to school.

It had been tolerable enough in the summer, because he knew that every pay check he made was being spent on new guitar strings, or cheap beer and pot, or gas money to drive across the state the play shows. He thought that he’d quit at the end of summer and record the album with Pencey, and it wouldn’t matter that he didn’t have a degree because he’d be in a band he loved and they would be starting to make it big. Except everything had started to go to shit and they had all known it wouldn’t last much longer, but it had still hurt Frank when it ended officially.

He knew his mom was disappointed in him, but she’d never admit it. She’d sent him to a good Catholic school, and taken him to church every Sunday, and helped him get into a good college, and she probably felt like he’d thrown all of that away. He knew that she didn’t want him to drop out of college, even though she was happy that he was pursuing what he really wanted with the band, but it meant that he didn’t have a backup plan now that music had fallen though, just as he suspected she had known it would. He felt guilty to be back living with her; he felt like he should at least move out and try and get a real job, but he just couldn’t bring himself to fully accept that music wasn’t going to work. The thought of getting a normal, boring, full-time job made him shiver. But he’d be twenty in a couple of months, and his life wasn’t going anywhere. And it was his fault, because he’d thrown any real prospects away on the off chance that Pencey Prep would make it big. His mom was still probably holding out in the hope that he’d “find God”.

Watching the sun finish setting through the dirty windows was decidedly depressing. It was only September, so it was still setting pretty late, but it served as a reminder that while Frank was stood behind a linoleum countertop, the rest of the world kept going. Things kept happening, and he wasn’t a part of any of them. He was living at home with his mother and working the 7-Eleven night shift and it didn’t look like that would be changing anytime soon.

Frank resignedly reached into his pocket for his iPod and earphones, watching as a dude in a trucker cap pulled open the fridge and took out a six pack of energy drinks. With Black Flag playing in one ear, he handed the guy his change and leant back against the counter, watching the time pass on the digital clock on the register.

No one else came in until nearly midnight, when a pair of women bought a pack of cigarettes. They both looked high out of their minds on something or other, but Frank had learned that it was best not to question the kinds of people you’d meet at night at a gas station in New Jersey. He wasn’t completely on his own, because of the few attendants wandering around the lot waiting for cars to pull up, but they were far enough away that he felt sufficiently alone, and, as a result, bored. He spent a couple of hours just staring out the window and listening to music until the want for a cigarette became unavoidable. He stood up on his tiptoes, checking that no cars were pulling into the lot, before cracking open the window next to the counter and rummaging in his back pocket for his pack of Marlboros. Brian had told him not to go for smoke breaks out the back, but he technically wasn’t breaking any of Brian’s rules by just smoking out the window, he supposed. He closed his eyes as the first inhale hit his lungs, revelling in the feeling of the smoke in his throat after hours without, before slowly exhaling out the window. Just as the wind caught the cigarette, and Frank fumbled for his lighter to relight it, the door swung open. He promptly dropped the cigarette in his haste to shut the window and leap back to the counter, his lighter falling to the floor with a clatter. The guy who had walked in just looked up at him, blank-faced. Frank forced his face into something that he hoped resembled a polite smile. The guy gave him a slightly confused looking smile in return.

Frank silently cursed himself for dropping the cigarette, and vowed to go and pick it up off the ground when his shift ended. He was above picking up other people’s smokes, he thought, but his own was fine, surely? Either way, he couldn’t afford to keep buying them, and Brian was bound to notice that he was smuggling extra packs out of the store room.

The boy was wandering up and down the aisles, staring aimlessly at the drinks and snacks. Frank watched him as he lifted himself up onto one of the freezers with the sliding glass tops and sat down, debating telling him he wasn’t allowed to do that, but deciding against it. Now that they were both still, Frank could get a better look at him. His hands had remained tucked into the pockets of his black hoodie for the whole time that he’d been walking around the store, and were still there, resting in his lap. His beat up converse banged lightly against the side of the freezer as he swung his feet, his jeans making that swooshing noise as his legs brushed each other. He was staring out of the window in much the same way that Frank spent so much of his time doing, long dark hair falling into his face. He looked about Frank’s age, maybe a few years older.

Suddenly the boy looked directly at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. Frank jumped, hastily averting his eyes, and knocked over a stand of keychains in the process. When he looked back up after picking them all up off the counter, the boy was still looking at him. Their eyes met for a second, before Frank forced himself to smile politely again. Once again, the boy smiled back cautiously.

Frank shook his head lightly, more to himself than to the boy. He’d seen his fair share of weirdos working at a gas station, so there was no reason that a kinda creepy looking boy should affect him. But he looked back over to him anyway, watching the way his hair fluttered in front of his face as he slowly exhaled once, then seemed to stop.

After ten more minutes or so of just sitting and staring out the window, the boy slipped off the freezer and walked out, the door swinging shut behind him just as frank muttered a “thank you”. His voice came out slightly croaky from a few hours without using it.

Frank looked back down at the register just in time to see the little red numbers change to 1am.

When 4am finally rolled around, Frank dragged himself out to his car after handing over his keys to the girl taking over from him, and made it halfway home down the freeway before realising that he hasn’t picked up his discarded cigarette. He silently cursed himself as he pulled onto his street, and flipped open his pack once he’d pulled into his driveway. There were only four smokes left, and it was another two weeks until his next pay check. It wasn’t like he literally couldn’t afford another pack, but he’d sort of rather save his money to try and do something a bit more worthwhile. He’d been leaching off of his mom for long enough, so he thought he should at least move out soon, even if he wasn’t going to go back to college or anything. Or, at least, he wanted the money to buy pot.

His mom was still asleep as he closed the front door behind him and tiptoed upstairs past her bedroom door. A greyish blue light was just starting to creep in through the windows of his room as he sat down on his bed. He took his shoes off and thought to himself that he probably aught to take off his jeans at least, but ended up falling asleep fully dressed on top of his blanket.

Frank woke up to the sound of his alarm beeping on the nightstand next to him. He cracked an eye open to see afternoon sunlight flooding his room, and rolled onto his back, reaching for his phone and looking up at the small crucifix hanging over his bed. He had four texts; one from his mom, checking he got home ok (presumably she hadn’t wanted to come into his room for fear of waking him up), a couple from Ray Toro asking if he was planning on coming to see the band they both liked that was playing in town that night, and one from Shaun Simon with a photo of a guitar hanging on the wall of the guitar store in town. As he was trying out a reply to his mom, his phone starting ringing, Ray’s name on the screen.

“Hey, Toro.”

“Hey, Frankie, you good for tonight?”

Frank rolled onto his front, glancing over at the clock on his nightstand. “I don’t think I can come, dude. I’ve gotta work. I’m on the night shift now.”

“What, on Saturday nights? That sucks, man.”

“I know. I’m not gonna get another job, though.”

“Come on, that’s not true. You’ll find something.”

He smiled weakly. “Thanks, man. I’m really sorry about tonight.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ll find someone to go with.”

As Ray hung up, Frank stared up at the ceiling again and mentally prepared himself to drag himself out of bed. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to become effectively nocturnal, and the show that Ray was going to definitely wouldn’t be the only thing he’d miss because he was stuck on the night shift. He hadn’t been lying though - he’d have a hard time finding anyone else to hire him. He had a feeling that the only reason that Brian hadn’t fired him yet was because he felt bad for him, knowing how many jobs he’d got rejected or fired from before lading a job at 7-Eleven. And, he supposed, no one else wanted to work the night shift on Friday and Saturday nights.

By the time he got to work that evening, Frank was stoned. He’d figured that even though it wouldn’t last for the whole of his shift, being high would definitely make the hours pass slightly quicker, and it’s not like anyone coming into a New Jersey 7-Eleven in the middle of the night would be surprised to see a stoned teenager working the register. He’d found that there hadn’t been a whole lot to do for the few hours of daylight that he was awake for. Most of his (admittedly few and far between) friends were at work, as was his mom, so he basically just sat around watching TV, listening to music, jerking off and waiting for his shift to start.

Brian wasn’t there when he clocked in, luckily, because he knew from past experiences that Brain wouldn’t be thrilled with him turning up already high. For the second night in a row, he watched the sun set out of the window as the attendants pumped the occasional person’s gas, one earphone in playing music much too loud to do his hearing any good.

It was the same kinds of people coming in as the night before; the odd trucker, girls who hung around in the lot for a while before getting picked up by sleazy dudes, the occasional group of kids probably on a road trip or something. Frank looked down at the clock on the register just as it hit midnight, and watched the date click forward by a day. Just as he thought that now might be a good time for a smoke, the door swung open, and he sighed, looking up. However, he was slightly taken aback to see the same dark haired boy that had come in the night before - the same scruffy black jeans and hoodie and strands of long black hair hanging into his face. The same big, almost feminine eyes glancing up at Frank as the boy walked past, hands stuffed in his pockets. Frank stared. The same people never really came in more than once, let alone twice in a row. That was the nature of working at a gas station, and was pretty much the same when he had worked a daytime shift. People came and went on their way to somewhere else. Much like the people that worked at the 7-Eleven with him, Frank thought rather miserably, kicking the counter lightly and purposely avoiding staring at the boy out of a fear of creeping him out. Frank had seen countless people get hired and then quit in the six months or so that he’d been working there, because no one wanted to stay. To everyone else, it was a job for maybe a month or so while they tried to find something better, or because they wanted the cash for their summer vacation.

This time, the boy leant against the slurpee machine and let out a long sigh, staring down at his feet. Frank took the opportunity to get a good look at his face and try and decipher what kind of person he must be to frequent a random gas station in the middle of the night. There was definitely something girly about his face - maybe it was the long, dark eyelashes framing his large eyes, or the roundish softness of his cheeks. He was almost shockingly pale, with not a hint of a blush on those cheeks, and looked even more so because of how dark his hair was. It was just as the boy finally took a hand out of his hoodie pocket (also deathly pale - Frank started to wonder if there was something wrong with this dude) and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear that Frank realised he wasn’t doing his job very well. Not that that was anything new - he was generally pretty shit at it. He cleared his throat quietly, almost as a warning to the boy that he was about to speak. “Can I help you with anything?”

The boy looked up at him from behind his hair. “Oh, um…” he glanced around the store. “No, I’m good, thanks.” His voice was high and slightly nasal.

Frank nodded, putting on his best customer service smile. “Just… let me know if I can do anything for you.”

The boy nodded, an awkward smile on his face. Once again, he merely stood there for about fifteen minutes, staring out the window into the darkness (or maybe he was staring at his reflection - Frank couldn’t see from where he was stood at the register), before leaving without a word. It was just as the boy left that Frank noticed just how hungry he had gotten, and started to slightly regret getting quite so stoned before coming to work.

Frank made a point of scrambling out of his jeans and 7-Eleven branded shirt before collapsing into bed when he got home in the morning, but didn’t bother setting his alarm. He’d wake up in time to get to work, but he didn’t really see the point of waking up any earlier. He wouldn’t have anything to do all afternoon.

He was proven wrong when he was woken up by the sound of someone knocking at his door long before he had planned to wake up. He groaned, rolling onto his side, and squeezed his eyes shut. He had to remember to close his curtains from now on, given that he was falling asleep just as the sun was coming up.

“Frank, are you awake?”

He responded by groaning again, and tucked his head under his pillow.

“Frank?”

“Yeah, mom, I’m awake!”

“We’re leaving in half an hour, so get dressed!”

He’d forgotten about church somehow. He supposed his change in routine and sleep schedule had made it completely slip his mind that it was Sunday. As he rolled out of bed and started rummaging through the piles of clothes on his bedroom floor for something church-appropriate, he looked over at his alarm clock and tried to do the math to work out how many hours of sleep he’d gotten. Four, maximum. In his opinion, church started much too early to encourage anyone to come, even if they weren’t already put off by, y'know, everything else about being Catholic.

He dragged himself downstairs at eight forty five on the dot to find his mom standing on the front doorstep, car keys in hand, evidently fully prepared to shout up the stairs after him. He gave her a look as he got into the car, to which she responded with a smug smile. “When you’re under my roof, you’re under my rules. That means church.”

He scowled and turned away, head resting against the cool window.

Church was the only time that Frank really thought about God. Of course, sometimes he’d find himself pausing before doing something because of the deeply instilled fear that he’d somehow be punished for it, but that never ended up stopping him. He found that thinking too much about how the universe was created, or anything of the like, only made his brain hurt. But in church, next to his mother, it was hard not to wonder. When he had been fourteen or so, he’d decided that he didn’t like Catholicism, more out of an urge to rebel against his upbringing and school than anything, and he definitely wasn’t the church’s biggest fan, but he didn’t think he could confidently say that he didn’t believe anything that they told him. He wasn’t sure what he believed. Even over a year after graduating from his Catholic high school, he still wore a little silver cross on a chain around his neck, and he did make an effort to pay attention when father Davis was talking, and he occasionally found himself asking God questions inside his head. He especially found a certain comfort in confession, despite his complaints to his mother that it was “boring and pointless”. He felt like he could genuinely say anything, get anything off of his chest, and there would be a way to stop the guilt. Saying Our Fathers and Hail Marys almost felt like a punishment, even though it wasn’t meant to feel like that, he imagined, but he almost revelled in the feeling that he was being punished for what he’d done, regardless of whether he himself thought it was sinful. There was just something cathartic about the monotony of it.

As he sat down in the confession booth and rubbed his eyes, he cast his mind back to the past week, thinking of anything he might have done wrong. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

He started rattling off everything he could think of, including the copious amounts of pot he’d smoked in the past week, and felt as if a small weight was being lifted off of his chest, not that he’d ever admit it to his mother. Kneeling in the pews to say his Hail Marys, he inadvertently caught himself looking forward to the much needed nap he was going to have when he got home, and silently congratulated himself for staying awake through the whole church service.

“Toro, you around tonight?” Frank kicked his feet in the dust of the church parking lot, staring over to where his mother was deep in conversation with someone or other.

“Yeah, a bunch of us are going over to Tim’s. You not working?”

“Nah, only Fridays and Saturdays.”

“I can pick you up at, like, nine if you want. I assume you won’t wanna drive?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I plan on getting ridiculously wasted.”

* * *

Dragging himself out of bed on Monday morning with a wicked hangover, Frank tried to psych himself up to spend the week looking for another job. He knew he’d been right in his assumption that he’d have trouble finding anyone else stupid (or sympathetic) enough to hire him, but he knew he needed to try. Every day for a week, he drove around town asking in stores, bars and diners if anyone was hiring, and even managed to hand over a few copies of his resume, but by Friday afternoon he hadn’t had a single call back. Not that his expectations had been high, but as he drove himself down to the gas station in the fading evening light, he couldn’t help but sigh to himself.

Brian was carrying boxes into the storeroom when Frank walked in, and he was suddenly struck with an idea. As he chucked his jacket in the general direction of the counter, Frank turned to Brain with a grin on his face. “Hey, Brian?”

“Yeah?” Brian looked up, putting down the box he was holding.

“I don’t suppose you have any other shifts you could give me, do you?”

Brian sighed, looking Frank up and down. Frank silently praised himself for turning up to work sober.

“Look, Frank,” said Brian, folding his arms in front of him. “If I did have any shifts I needed covering, you wouldn’t be top of my list to offer them to. No offence.”

“None taken.” Frank nodded.

“But if I ever can’t find _anyone_ else, I’ll let you know.”

Just as he chucked Frank the keys and made to leave, Brian turned back to him. “Oh, and if you wanna get back in my good books, I’d stop smoking out the window in the middle of your shift.”

Frank gave in within only a few hours and cracked open the window at the first possible opportunity. As soon as it looked like no one would be coming in for a little while, he pulled a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, making sure to blow the smoke out of the window. He’d caved and bought another pack halfway through the week from the dude round the corner from his house that didn’t check IDs - it had turned out that job-hunting was stressful enough to merit a serious amount of smoke breaks.

It was fully dark by the time he reached the filter of his cigarette and made to put it out against the outside wall. Just as he reached his arm out through the window to do so, the door opened. He jumped - he hadn’t seen any cars pull into the lot, and it wasn’t often that someone came to a gas station on foot, obviously. Once again, he dropped the cigarette filter as he sprung back over to the register and made an attempt to look put together, but promptly failed when he looked up and saw the dark haired boy from the previous weekend.

Seeing the same person three shifts in a row wouldn’t be quite so odd if he was working a shift where more than eight or nine people would come in for the whole time he was working. It would still be slightly strange, but he probably wouldn’t have noticed at all, but considering he saw so few people, the boy’s face had stuck in his mind. And there he was again, walking aimlessly up and down the aisles and avoiding eye contact with Frank. This time, though, Frank concluded that it would be better if he just avoided saying anything. He didn’t want to creep this boy out even more than he’d probably already done. He hit play on his music again, putting his earphones back in, and tried to avoid watching him.

This time, the boy left almost without Frank noticing. Just as he looked up, the glass door was closing behind him.

On his fourth night, Frank almost expected the boy to walk in at around the same time as on his past three shifts, so was hardly surprised when the head of dark hair appeared once again. They exchanged the usual polite smiles before retreating to their opposite ends of the store, where they remained, in silence and avoiding eye contact, for a good ten minutes.

However, just as Frank was staring at his reflection in the window and wondering whether or not he needed a haircut, he heard a loud clatter behind him. He turned back around to see the boy standing right in front of the register, hurriedly picking up the box of lighters that he had knocked over.

“Sorry."

“Don’t worry about it.” Frank reached over to start putting the lighters back in the box. He paused when he suddenly realised that the boy was stood less than a metre away from him, and had stopped moving. He looked up.

“Sorry,” The boy said again, glancing down and starting to pick up the lighters again.

“You don’t need to apologise for everything.”

The boy paused again. Frank looked back up. They were looking directly at each other.

“Sorry.”

Frank grinned. After a small pause, the boy smiled back at him. “I like your lip ring.’

Almost subconsciously, Frank ran the tip of his tongue over it. “Thanks.”

There was an almost painfully long silence, in which Frank took the opportunity to finally get a good look at the boy up close. He looked exhausted. His eyes sat above dark shadows, his skin so pale it was almost translucent. His black hair slipped into his face yet again, one hand coming up to tuck it back behind his ear.

Finally, Frank broke the silence. “What can I get you?”

The boy looked slightly puzzled by his question. Frank gestured around the store.

“Oh, right, uh… can I just get a pack of Marlboro Reds, please?”

Frank nodded and he turned to the shelves behind the counter, but stopped when he realised that there were none left. The last box was tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, now in clear view of the boy as he leant forwards, but none on the shelves..

“Sorry, dude, I think we’re out.” As he turned around, he was almost sure he noticed the boy’s eyes flick upwards, as if they had indeed been lingering on the pack of cigarettes in Frank’s back pocket.

The boy’s face fell. “Oh. Well… never mind. No problem.”

Frank’s heart sank slightly as the boy turned to leave. “Wait! I mean…’ He debated with himself for a second, “Do you wanna just take mine? There’s only, like, half left, but I’m here every night on weekends, so I can just get more for myself tomorrow when we get more in…”

The boy smiled again. “I’m here every night, too.”

“I’ve noticed.” Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out the slightly tattered box, and held it out.

“Are you sure?”

Frank nodded. “Don’t worry about it.” He handed the pack over, leaning almost all the way over the counter because of how short he was. As he did so, the small silver crucifix on a chain around his neck swung out of the front of his shirt. The boy took the box, glancing down at the cross, and winced. Color flooding his cheeks, Frank hastily tucked the chain back inside his shirt, then rearranged his face into a polite smile.

The boy continued to stare at his chest for a moment longer, looking slightly troubled, before smiling up at him. “Gerard."

“What?”

“My name’s Gerard.”

“Frank."

“Nice to meet you.”

Frank didn’t have time to answer. The glass door was already swinging closed behind Gerard’s retreating back.


	2. Chapter 2

_“And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.”_

_(2 Corinthians 11:14)_

“Hey, Brian?”

“Yes, Frank?” Brain said, slightly resignedly.

Frank slid off of the counter where he had been sitting, watching through the open store room door as Brain grabbed his jacket off of the hook. “Who works the night shift during the week?”

“Grace, why?”

“Just wondering.”

Grace worked during the day on Saturdays as well, so he saw her as he was arriving every week. He made a mental note to talk to her before she left when he next saw her the next day, and to ask if Gerard ever came in during the week. He wasn’t sure why he’d taken such an interest in the matter, but there was something vaguely unsettling about him. And, Frank thought to himself, what kind of person hung out at a gas station at around the same time every night, just staring out the window?

Business was slow that Friday night, as usual, and Frank found himself almost dozing off until Gerard walked in, grinning at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Frank stood up a little straighter, watching as Gerard wandered off towards the fridges.

When he got bored of aimlessly scrolling through the music on his iPod, or replying to the few unanswered texts he had, Frank looked back over at where Gerard was stood. “Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.

He scratched the back of his arm, thinking how to word it. “No offence, but… well, why exactly do you hang out at a gas station in the middle of the night every weekend? Not that I mind,” he added hastily. “I was just wondering.”

Gerard smirked at the ground. “I guess I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Sleep?”

Gerard laughed. “Not really my thing.”

“Ok, well… it’s not even like you ever buy anything. Food, I mean. You buy smokes.”

Gerard shrugged. “Not hungry. Anyway,” He looked up. “How does a teenage boy end up working the night shift at a gas station on weekends? Don’t _you_ have anything better to do?”

Frank shrugged this time. “No one else wanted the shift. And I’m pretty shit at everything, so no one else is ever gonna hire me. I’ve gotta take what I can if I ever want to move out of my mom’s house. Well, I’m good at guitar, and stuff, but that didn’t exactly work out.”

“You play guitar?” Gerard stood up straighter, no longer leaning against the glass front of the fridge.

“Yeah. I was in a band for a while.”

“Man,” Gerard turned back to the window, smiling. “I miss being in a band.”

“You play?”

“I used to sing, and stuff.”

“Used to?”

“Didn’t work out in the end.”

“So you had to get a boring job?”

Gerard sighed, leaning back against the glass, then shook his head.

Something about the look on his face told Frank that Gerard didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he just nodded.

When Gerard left that night, Frank found himself slightly disappointed. Talking to him had served as a small respite from the hours of silent boredom that he’d started learning to expect.

* * *

Ray had an afternoon off work the next day, so Frank called him once he’d (finally) woken up, and they sat in his bedroom and smoked their way through a good half of Frank’s weed stash, swapping CDs and talking about guitar. Just as Ray was leaving, he turned to Frank, who was stood in the doorway. “Y’know, I’ve been wanting to start another band for a while. We should play together some time.”

“Yeah, man, that’d be good.”

He wouldn’t admit it to any of his friends, because they were all sort of pretending that Pencey Prep hadn’t come to its slightly sticky end, but he missed playing in a band. He missed playing shows in front of a crowd, even if it was just twenty kids in someone’s basement, throwing himself around as he played or screamed into the mic. He’d been reluctant to seek out new people to start a band with, though, but Ray was probably the best guitarist he knew, so he felt pretty good about himself at the prospect of Ray asking _him_ to think about starting a band.

He was still riding the high of both Ray’s offer and the pot as he walked into 7-Eleven, and almost forgot his plan to ask Grace about Gerard. He just managed to catch her as she was leaving after handing over they keys to him.

“Grace, before you go, can I ask you a question?”

She turned towards the register, slightly red in the face. Frank suddenly realised how that might have sounded, and made an effort to keep his tone as neutral as possible. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a dude about my age coming in, like, every night?”

She paused, thinking. “No, I don’t think so. I’d probably notice someone coming in every night. I mean, a kinda creepy looking guy was in the other week, on Monday I think. He looked about your age, maybe a bit older.”

“Did he have dark hair?”

“Yeah. Looked kind of like a girl. Creepy,” she repeated.  
Frank felt a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

Said creepy looking boy wandered in at around the usual time that night, hands in his pockets, and grinned at Frank on his way past. Frank gave him maybe five minutes to do his usual aimless browsing before clearing his throat quietly. “You don’t come in during the week.”

“Hm?” Gerard brushed his hair out of his face.

“You only come in on weekends.”

A slightly sheepish smile snuck onto Gerard’s face, but he didn’t blush. His cheeks stayed ghostly pale. “How’d you work that one out?”

Frank, however, did blush. “I… I asked the girl that works the night shift during the week. I was interested.” He ran a hand through his own hair. “Are you busy during the week?”

Gerard shook his head. “I guess I just prefer coming in on weekends.”

Frank’s blush deepened. He could feel the blood right under his skin, but wasn’t entirely sure why; Gerard hadn’t even said that he only came on the weekends to see Frank, and that wouldn’t make sense anyway, because this was only their second weekend of speaking at all.

When he finally looked back up, Gerard was still staring at him. “You don’t need to stand so far away, y’know.”

“I know.” Gerard nodded, smiling, but didn’t move.

“You’re kinda weird, Gerard.”

“I know.”

For the third week in a row, Frank forgot to set his alarm on Sunday morning and was woken up by his mother knocking on the door. In the car on the way to church, he scowled over at her. “Surely I should be allowed to sleep in when I only get back from work at, like, 5am.”

“Frank, you’re not getting out of church. Give it a rest. Anyway,” she turned to face him as they pulled into the parking lot. “I know you enjoy it really.”

She was sort of right, but Frank would never admit it. He did find the services and sermons and everything a bit dull, but he reckoned that even if he didn’t live with his mom, and therefore have to go, he’d probably turn up anyway. It was a strange source of comfort to him. He did believe in God - or, at least, something - after all.

He’d just settled in to catch up on some sleep after getting home from church when his mom shouted up the stairs for him.

He stuck his head out of his bedroom door, head slightly fuzzy from the state of half-asleep that he’d been jolted out of. “What, Mom?”  
“Lunch is ready, come downstairs!”  
He groaned, and started hunting for a cleanish t shirt.

It took about three minutes of eating lunch for his mom to bring up a topic of conversation that he desperately wanted to avoid.

“Frank, I think you need to start thinking about college again.”

He sighed, pushing his mashed potato around his plate. His mother snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, mom. College.”

“We’ll need to try and get you another student loan. But I assume you haven’t made enough at that job to pay off the first one yet, have you?”

He scowled up at her. “What if I don’t want to go back to college?”

“What other plans do you have, then?”

When he didn’t reply, she nodded slowly. “You need a plan. You’re working part time at a crappy job-"

“I thought God said no cursing?”

“Crap isn’t a curse word. Anyway,” she continued, “you’ve got a crappy job, no qualifications or prospects, no girlfriend-‘’

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“I’m just saying,” She lifted her hands up in mock surrender. “You turn twenty in just over a month.”

“What, you want me to get _married_?”

“No, of course not. It would just be nice if you put yourself out there a bit more.”

He let out a short laugh, and had a sudden, rather strange flashback to the time his mom had found porno mags in his room when he had been fifteen or so, and the lecture he’d gotten about the sanctity of marriage and the sinfulness of sex. No doubt his mom hoped he was still a virgin. The day he’d lost his virginity he’d felt almost sick with the guilt of it, the fear that somehow his mom would _know,_ or that Father Davis would tell her after he admitted it in confession, even though Frank knew he couldn’t. It had been the same the first time he’d gotten drunk, and high. He had to constantly remind himself that while he was pretty sure he believed in God, he didn’t actually believe that what he was doing was wrong, that he didn’t believe in being damned to hell, but, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, some part of him felt like he’d always have that guilt.

* * *

“You got any Marlboros this week?”

Frank nodded, grinning, and turned around to grab them. “You finished mine?”

“Yeah, in about three hours. Let me pay you back.” Gerard started rummaging in his pockets, but Frank shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, man. Here.” He handed over the new pack.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, there weren’t that many left in there anyway.”

Gerard grinned. “Thanks.”

As Gerard payed for the new pack of cigarettes and turned to walk back to his corner, Frank had a sudden burst of bravery. “Hey, Gerard?”  
“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna, like… I don’t know, hang out somewhere other than a gas station, maybe?”

Gerard’s bottom lip was drawn in between his top and bottom teeth when he turned back around.

Frank suddenly regretted saying anything, realising how it must have sounded. “Sorry, I- not like that, I just… wondered. Not in… that way.”

But Gerard had a small smile on his face. “Yeah, that’d be cool, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, what time d’you get off?”

“Not till four, but I’m free on weeknights. And, y’know, during the day.”

Gerard nodded. “Night’s better. I don’t mind waiting until four, though.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Come on, dude, that’s like,” he glanced down at the time on the register, “over three hours.”

Gerard shrugged. “I haven’t got anywhere to be.”

“Asleep, maybe?” Frank laughed.

Gerard smiled. “Nah, I’m good. I’d rather hang out with you.”

Frank felt color rise in his cheeks again. Gerard’s eyes stayed fixed on his face.

Gerard did indeed wait; admittedly he stayed oddly far away from Frank, but they spent the whole three hours just talking about everything from their families to music to childhood interests. Frank learned that Gerard had a younger brother, about Frank’s age, and that he liked much of the same music as Frank did. Frank told him about all of his plans to get a Misfits tattoo to go with his Black Flag one just as soon as he had the money, and Gerard made him promise to show him as soon as he got it. At the mention of tattoos, Frank thought he saw Gerard’s eyes rove over his torso, as if he was trying to work out if he had ink there to compliment that on his arms.

It was still dark when 4am rolled around and Brian came in to take over, giving Frank a slightly suspicious look, evidently shocked that he’d somehow made a friend in the middle of the night.

Once the pair of them were stood in the parking lot, Frank realised he didn’t actually have a plan. Gerard was looking at him, almost expectantly, so he hurriedly rummaged around for his car keys. “You wanna go somewhere cool?”

“Sure.”

Frank grinned, pulling open the driver side door.

“So where are you taking me?” Gerard asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Uh… that’s a surprise.”

“If you say so.” Gerard smiled over at him.

He pulled out onto the road, still not really knowing where he was going, occasionally glancing over at where Gerard was sat with one knee pulled up so his foot rested on the edge of the seat. Suddenly, as he watched Gerard stare out of the window, he noticed that his chest was perfectly still. “You alright, dude?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You were holding your breath.”

Gerard’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” His chest started moving, rising and falling slowly.

Frank turned back to the road, briefly closing his eyes shut and opening them again. He was probably just tired from working all night.

Frank drove pretty aimlessly until he remembered the park he used to watch the sunrise from with his friends before he started working the night shift on weekends. It was right at the top of a small hill, past a row of little bungalows and surrounded by an area of trees, and had a perfect view East across the whole town.

He drove right to the end of the street, out through the trees, until the town stretched out in front of them, lit up by the pinkish glow spreading from the horizon. Gerard looked over at him. “I sure hope you haven’t taken me here to try and murder me.”

Frank chuckled, getting out of the car. “Don’t worry. I don’t think I’m big enough to murder you even if I tried.”

“Yeah, you definitely couldn’t.”

Frank hoisted himself up onto the hood of the car and tapped the cold metal next to him until Gerard pushed himself up and sat down. Frank rummaged around in the pocket of his jeans until he found the joint he’d rolled the day before and lit it.

Gerard was sat right on the edge of the hood, seemingly as far away from Frank as he could get without falling off the side, and was lighting a cigarette as Frank glanced over at him.

“You want some?” He held out the joint.

Gerard shook his head, holding up the pack of cigarettes. “I’m good.”

Frank wasn’t sure if he should feel offended by Gerard keeping so far away from him all of the time. Maybe he just didn’t like the smell of pot.

It was after a couple of hits that Frank realised that taking someone to watch the sunset probably wasn’t a normal friendly activity when you hardly knew someone, but when he looked over at Gerard, he was staring at the horizon with a small smile on his face.

“I haven’t seen the sunset in forever.”

Frank stared at him. “Not even in the summer?”

Gerard shook his head. “I’m out at night a lot, but I’m always home before the sun comes up.”

Frank took a deep drag on the joint. “What are you, a vampire?” He had meant for his tone to come across as joking, but evidently the pot had gone to his head already, because it seemed that he may have misjudged it entirely.

Gerard just paused, then chuckled. “Nah.”

Frank offered to drive Gerard home when the sun was peeking over the horizon and his spliff had burned all of the way down, but Gerard insisted on walking.

“I live pretty close. And I don’t trust your driving after that.” He laughed, nodding down at the spliff end that Frank was grinding out with his heel.

“Fair enough.” He pulled open his car door as Gerard put his hands back into his pockets and turned to walk off. “I guess I’ll see you next weekend, then?”

Gerard nodded, still smiling, but Frank, definitely feeling the boost of confidence that getting high gave him, grabbed his arm. “Why don’t I give you my number?”

Gerard stared at him. “Oh, right. I haven’t actually got a phone.”

“Oh.” Frank’s heart sank slightly. “No worries, then. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

There was a slightly-too-long moment of heavy silence between them before Gerard turned and headed off towards the road. 

* * *

It took Frank three more days of halfhearted job hunting before he walked into the music store where Ray and Shaun worked and begged for a job.

“Ray, you don’t understand. My mom is gonna send me back to college.”  
Ray made a face of mock horror, putting down the box of drumsticks that he’d been carrying. “Frank, I can’t just give you a job like that.”  
“You’re the fucking manager!”

“Yeah, but we’re not hiring. Anyway, college wasn’t so bad, was it?”  
Frank rested his head against the wall of the storeroom, giving Ray what he hoped was a pleading look. “Toro, I am begging you. I _need_ a real job.”

“Look,” Ray said, walking out of the storeroom holding another box, Frank hot on his heels. “I can’t hire you right now, but I’ll do what I can if we need anyone sometime soon. In the meantime, I can try and get you a one time gig as a roadie or something, if you want.”  
“Yes! Yes, please!” Frank clasped his hands in front of him, eyes wide. Because of his job, and the sheer number of bands he’d been in, Ray knew just about everyone who had anything to do with music in the whole county. He was always the first to know when someone was putting on a show, or starting a band, or recording an album. He’d even helped Pencey Prep get off the ground by getting their name out to promoters and managers.

“I can ask around. Someone’s always looking for a hand at shows.”  
Frank grinned and hugged him round the middle. Ray was at least half a foot taller than him, so Frank tucked under his chin nicely. “You’re the best, Toro."

As he was driving home, his phone buzzed with a text.

_From: Ray_

_Forgot to ask if ur still interested in starting a band sometime_

He grinned over at where his phone sat on the passenger seat, making a mental reminder to reply the second he got home.

Overall, his spirits were considerably higher for the rest of that week than they had been for a little while. Ray called him on Thursday to tell him that a friend of his needed someone to help out with setting up for a show in a bar that weekend, and although he’d need to use his fake ID to actually get in, he’d make a bit of money off of doing what he basically used to do on his own for free when he toured with Pencey. He also thought he might have made a new friend in Gerard, something that he’d failed to do since he’d dropped out of college. He went to bed on Thursday night without as much of the sense of dread for the future that he’d gotten so accustomed to feeling in the past few months.

* * *

Frank and Gerard sat almost shoulder to shoulder on the hood of his car, knees brushing against each other every time one of them moved. The sun was just below the horizon, the first orange rays just starting to light up the pink and blue sky. Below them, the whole town lay sleeping.

Gerard’s pinky finger moved against Frank’s hand, and Frank’s eyes darted down to watch it. Slowly, Gerard moved his hand on top of Frank’s and threaded their fingers together, pressing Frank’s hand against the cold metal of the car. Gerard’s hand was warm and soft against the back of Frank’s. When he looked up, Gerard was staring straight at him, the bottom half of his face just beginning to be lit up with the orange glow of the sun coming over the horizon. Gerard licked his lips, a small smile on his face. Frank felt his stomach twist. Before he even realised that Gerard had moved, they were kissing. Gerard’s mouth moved against his, and his tongue gently pushed between Frank’s lips. Frank kept his left hand intertwined with Gerard’s against the hood, his other gently gripping the front of Gerard’s hoodie. Gerard’s other hand cupped the side of his face, his thumb warm against Frank’s cheek.

Frank couldn’t think. He didn’t want to think. He let himself focus entirely on the feeling of Gerard’s tongue moving against his, the feeling of their hands against each other, the feeling of their knees knocking together as Gerard shifted so that one of his legs was in between Frank’s. He didn’t feel any need to pull away and ask any questions. He just let himself be pushed gently back against the hood of the car so that Gerard could straddle him properly and push a warm hand up his shirt. He gasped when he felt Gerard’s other hand pressing against his crotch through his jeans, and his hips bucked up uncontrollably, seeking more friction. Gerard chuckled into his mouth and pressed down harder, letting Frank grind against his hand as he kept kissing him like his life depended on it.

Frank woke up with a gasp, lying on his front with both hands gripping his pillow. His hips were moving against his mattress, making him let out a small moan as he desperately tried to get a grasp of his surroundings. He rolled onto his back, eyes squeezed shut, and tried to stop the memory of his dream from slipping away.

He felt slightly sick. With sweaty, shaking hands, he scrabbled for the crucifix around his neck and grabbed it, breathing deeply and sitting up. Jesus stared down at him from the crucifix above him on the wall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's taken a little while, but I've jumped ahead to work on some later chapters as well so hopefully I'll be able to post a bit faster in the future :)

_“But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.”_

_(James 1:14-15)_

“Frank? Are you ok?”

“Hm?” He looked up from the shiny countertop. Gerard was staring at him. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”  
Gerard’s small smile made his stomach twist. He forced himself to smile back, ignoring the nasty little voice in his head.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. No one can control what they dream about, he told himself over and over again, so it’s not his _fault_. And even if it was, a dream doesn’t mean anything. He’d had weird dreams about plenty of random people before, without having any feelings for them at all. _But all of them were girls,_ the voice in his head reminded him. As if he needed reminding. To be fair, he pondered, Gerard did look quite a bit like a girl. There was definitely something feminine about his soft jaw and round face, and his big, slightly downturned eyes, and his small, pink mouth, and his slender, pale hands, and Frank _really_ needed to stop thinking about Gerard’s hands, fuck.

“Frank?”

He snapped out of his trance. “Sorry.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Gerard took a step closer to him, a look of concern on his face.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Gerard shrugged, leaning against the window. His foot was propping the door open so that he could smoke out of it, turning his head every time he exhaled. Frank’s hand dangled out of the window behind the register, a cigarette burning down in it. He didn’t say another word.

* * *

Frank’s fingertips hurt slightly. It had been too long since he’d played his guitar; the hard skin he’d built up had all but gone, so he winced slightly every time he pressed his fingers into the frets. Ray’s eyes were closed as he played, picking out little notes and melodies with an ease that Frank wished he had. Suddenly, he hit what sounded like a wrong note, and opened his eyes, glancing down.

“E string’s out of tune.”

Frank stopped playing and watched as Ray started tightening and loosening the string, plucking it after each adjustment and listening closely.

“Hey, Ray?” He leaned forwards where he was sitting on Ray’s couch, resting his chin in his palm.

“Yeah?”  
“Can I ask you something?”  
“Sure.” Ray looked up from his guitar, leaning against the back of the opposite couch. “What’s up?”

Frank hesitated, wondering how to word it. “Y’know when you have a dream about someone?"  
“What kind of dream?”

“Like… a _dream._ ”

Ray’s eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, one of those dreams.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. D’you think they always mean something? Or can they just be out of nowhere?”

Ray shrugged, looking back down at the fretboard of his guitar. “I think they can sometimes just be random. They don’t always have to mean you have a crush on the person, or anything. Why, who’d you have a dream about?”  
Frank sighed, feeling slightly relieved. “Oh, no one. It doesn’t matter.”  
“Come on, man, you can tell me. I won’t judge,” he said, grinning.

“Nah, it’s probably nothing. Is your string good?”  
“Yeah, I think I sorted it.” Ray seemed to move on from the conversation pretty quickly, much to Frank’s relief. “Oh, also, are you still good for Thursday night?”

“Oh, shit, yeah. I should get there at, like, seven, right?” Frank had almost forgotten that he was meant to be helping out at a gig for one of Ray’s friends in a band - assembling kit, carrying amps, normal roadie stuff, minus the touring. He was actually looking forward to it; even aside from the fact that he was getting payed, it had been a while since he’d been to a gig, and he definitely missed the whole atmosphere of them, either from onstage or in the audience. He missed that feeling of being a part of something that he’d gotten onstage with Pencey Prep back in the summer.

He was feeling marginally less miserable at work that night than he had the night before. His conversation with Ray had certainly made him feel slightly better about the dream, and he was genuinely looking forward to Thursday, even if he knew that a good part of his evening would be spent lugging gear around. It meant he got to go to a free gig, so he was happy either way.

When Gerard walked in that night, he was struck with a sudden moment of inspiration. _You shouldn’t_ , the voice in his head reminded him, _it’ll ruin everything._ But he didn’t care. They way he felt about Gerard wasn’t anything he should worry about. Sure, if he did think of Gerard in _that_ way he might have a problem on his hands, but he didn’t. He knew he didn’t.

“Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

He turned the words over in his head, trying to make sure they didn’t come across… like _that_. “I… well, I’m helping out at this gig on Thursday, and I thought- well, I… I was wondering if you wanted to, like… come along. To watch the band with me. Just, like, y’know… not, like, in _that_ way, I… yeah.”

When Gerard grinned, Frank felt slightly dizzy with relief. But he still had a mantra playing over and over again in his head - _it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything._

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Gerard said, nodding.

“Awesome. I mean, I would text you the address and everything, but you don’t have a phone.” He glanced around, eyes falling on the pen sitting on the countertop. “I can just write it down for you?”

“Yeah, sure.” Gerard leant against the shelf that he was standing next to, hands still in his hoodie pocket.

Frank scribbled down the address that Ray had given him and held it out, watching as Gerard slowly made his way over. “The show starts at nine.”

“Cool.”

They smiled at each other rather stupidly, and definitely for too long, before Gerard finally left.

Frank had been a little worried that he’d run into trouble trying to get into the bar on Thursday night, because he was technically still underage. There had been a couple of times when he’d turned up to play a show with Pencey Prep had had to have a rather long and painful argument with security where he explained to them that he was _in the fucking band._ He knew he still looked about fifteen aside from the tattoos, and his fake ID was hardly convincing, but he hoped that if he got there early enough he’d be okay. He turned out to be right - no one questioned him as he strolled in at around seven and made his way backstage.

He enjoyed himself more than he’d expected; He’d basically taken the job just for the chance to go to a show and get some money out of it, but the guys in the band joked and laughed with him the whole time he was helping set up, and even offered to buy him a drink afterwards. He hadn’t actually told them that he was only 19, and certainly didn’t plan on it if it would get in the way of free beer. He wasn’t actually needed backstage during the show, so the guys told him he could either hang out in the wings or go out into the audience. It was then that he wondered if he would have a problem finding Gerard among the crowds of people - given, the bar was relatively small, but it was filling up with people, and Gerard’s dark hair and clothes didn’t exactly make him easy to spot in low light. Gerard’s lack of a cellphone was suddenly looking like more of an issue.

Failing to spot Gerard in the crowd from where he was stood next to the backstage door, Frank headed back in the direction of the main door to the bar, where a steady trickle of people were flowing in, but Gerard wasn’t among them. Frank was starting to panic a little; had Gerard stood him up? Had he just forgotten, or gotten the time or day wrong? He craned his neck to see through the door, not really wanting to go outside and risk getting his ID checked on his way back in, but felt relief flow through him when he caught sight of a familiar head of long, dark hair. Gerard was stood against the brick wall just outside the door, under a street lamp, smoking the last of a cigarette. The filter rested between his fingers, hand hovering near his slightly parted lips. As he exhaled slowly, the grey smoke swirled in the yellow light before slowly dispersing. Frank only noticed that he’d been staring when Gerard turned to stub the cigarette out against the wall and spotted him. “Frank!”

Frank waved from his position a little inside the door, feeling the corners of his mouth lift into a smile as Gerard made his way over and inside.

They couldn’t talk much once they were inside because of the sound of the band just getting into their first song, Frank surprisingly didn’t mind, though. He found himself completely transfixed by the band as they started to play, even from where they were stood, pretty far back. As they broke into the first chorus, he lost himself in the way he could feel the drums shaking the floorboards, the way the guitarists and the bassist were working together and playing over one another, the way the singer was gripping the microphone and staring straight out into the crowd. He knew a fair few of their songs, having seen them play support at a few shows over the summer and borrowing their CD from Ray once, and found himself subconsciously mouthing some of the words. The whole thing made him ache with nostalgia for when it had been him up there onstage.

He might have forgotten that Gerard was even there if it wasn’t for the occasional nudge of their shoulders or arms as someone bumped into them or pushed past. Frank didn’t break his gaze from the stage until the band finished their very last song.

As the house lights came up, he let out a slow breath that he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and turned to Gerard. “That was amazing.”

He nodded, grinning. “I haven’t been to a show in so long.”

“Neither.”

They let themselves be carried by the crowd of people making their way outside, trying to stick close together as they were pushed out the door. The night air was cooler than Frank had expected, and he shivered slightly as he rummaged in the pocket of his jeans for his cigarettes and lighter.

“You cold?”

He nodded, holding out the box of smokes to Gerard, who took one.

“Should have worn a sweater. I guess it is October.”

One of Gerard’s hands was holding his cigarette as they slowly walked down the sidewalk, but he took the other out of his hoodie pocket for once, and tugged his sleeves over his hands. “Do you… well, I’m not cold. I don’t mind if wanna borrow my hoodie.”

“No.” Frank’s head snapped up instantly. He was sure that Gerard was just being nice, but that little corner of his brain would absolutely not let him accept the offer. Somehow wearing Gerard’s hoodie, regardless of the reason, felt like crossing some kind of line. He backtracked, realising he may have come across as slightly rude. “I mean, you don’t have a jacket. You’ll get cold.”

Thankfully, Gerard seemed to drop it pretty quickly, and started asking Frank about the band and how it’d gone helping them set up before the show. They fell into easy conversation, cracking jokes and sharing cigarettes as they walked lazily along the curb.

They eventually ended up at one of those 24-hour diners, the neon lights glaring down at them as they pushed through the door. It was completely empty apart from a waitress wiping down the counter, who looked up at them with distain as they slid into a booth.

“Food?”

Gerard slid his menu across the table towards Frank. “I’m good, I’m not really hungry. You eat, though.”

He debated saying no, and just getting a coffee or something, but his self restraint wasn’t good at the best of times, and blueberry pancakes were sounding _really_ good just then. He grinned over at Gerard, sinking back in his seat and feeling pleasantly peaceful. He still had a slight buzz from the alcohol, so his eyes slipped out of focus as he tilted his head back to stare at the patterns on the ceiling.

They talked about the show while they waited for Frank’s food to arrive, reliving their favourite moments and arguing over the best songs, Frank leaning forwards over the table. As he ate, he sat and listened to Gerard talk, not even really following what he was saying, just enjoying the sound of his voice.

It must have been nearing dawn when they finally got up to leave, still having not run out of conversation. Frank turned to face Gerard when they were stood on the sidewalk, everywhere closed except from the diner that they had just left. “I should probably get back.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Gerard looked slightly put out and ran a hand through his hair, before glancing up with a small smile. “You want me to walk you home?”

 _Say no_ , Frank’s brain told him. _Friends don’t do that_.

“Sure, thanks.”

Gerard smiled, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands and nodding at Frank to lead the way.

They walked in silence, which Frank was half glad for, despite the contrast to how it had been in the diner. It gave him an opportunity to think.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet. He hadn’t done anything he couldn’t tell his mom about if it came down to it. Well, he’d done plenty of things he couldn’t tell his mom about - getting high, drinking, having sex with the odd girl… but that wasn’t the same. That wasn’t the same as the dream, or the unwanted thoughts that popped into his head when he looked down at Gerard’s hands, or when they made eye contact for slightly too long. But he hadn’t actually _done_ anything, so it was ok, he told himself yet again.

“Do you miss being in a band?”

Frank’s train of thought was cut off abruptly. “Hm?”

Gerard shook his head. “I just remember you saying that you used to be in a band.” He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kicked a piece of gravel into the road. “And I saw the way you were watching the band, so I just… wondered.”

Frank’s stomach jolted at thought that Gerard had been watching him at the gig, had seen the way his eyes lit up when the band had started playing, the way he was completely swallowed up by the music. At the fact that Gerard remembered what Frank had told him weeks ago.

“Yeah, I guess I do. I mean, that’s what I thought I was gonna do with my life. I dropped out of college for it. So, yeah, it kinda sucks."

“So just start doing it again. If you miss it that much.”

Frank looked over at him. Gerard was watching his feet as he walked. He didn’t know what to say for a minute or so.

Eventually, he nudged Gerard’s shoulder with his own. “Do _you_ miss it?”

Gerard shrugged. Frank was starting to notice that he did that quite a lot.

“I miss bits of it.” Gerard glanced over at him, face even paler than usual in the dawn light. “I wasn’t… a lot of it wasn’t good for me. I wasn’t doing great during that whole… time.”

Frank got the message that he should probably drop the subject. He was still strangely disappointed when they reached his driveway, despite how little they had spoken. Gerard kept by his side as he walked up the path and stopped on the porch, stood strangely close to him. Frank's mind was cast back to those first few weekends in 7/11 where Gerard seemed to want to stay as far away from him as possible. _What changed?_

“Thanks for walking me home.”

Gerard grinned. “Thanks for tonight.”

Frank gulped. _That made it sound like it was a date,_ his brain unhelpfully supplied. “Don’t mention it. How are you getting home?”

“It’s not that far a walk.”

Frank nodded. He was stood on the porch step, while Gerard was still stood on the path, so they were almost exactly the same height. Gerard was still looking at him, eyes very round and mouth slightly open.

 _He’s going to kiss me_.

The thought made him panic. Gerard tilted his head slightly so that their noses were almost touching, so close that Gerard could have counted his eyelashes. A feeling of horror started filling him when he realised that he still hadn’t moved away. He still hadn’t said anything, or pushed Gerard away.

Frank could hear his blood pumping in his ears as Gerard stared at him. They were so close together that Frank could tell that Gerard was holding his breath.

Suddenly something in his brain snapped. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow!” He turned his key in the door and pushed it open, tumbling inside before Gerard could even finish responding. When it was closed tightly behind him, he pressed his back against it and closed his eyes, shaking his head to try and clear it.

As he stumbled upstairs to his room, his mother passed him holding a washing basket full of clothes. “Are you only just getting home?”

“Yeah.” He panted out, not even looking at her as he shut his bedroom door and collapsed onto the bed.

Even worse than the fact that he thought Gerard was going to kiss him was the fact that deep down, he knew he had _wanted_ Gerard to kiss him. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t twist that in any other way. He knew that if Gerard had moved even closer, he would have done nothing to stop him.

Frank wondered if he was going to throw up. His hands twisted in the bedsheets at his sides, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried to level his breathing. The cross around his neck felt like it was burning into the skin of his chest.

He wasn’t in love with Gerard. Because Gerard was a boy, and Frank liked girls, just as he was supposed to. He was supposed to like girls and fuck girls and he was supposed to marry a girl one day. He couldn’t love Gerard.

 _But you do_ , said the sneering voice in his head. _You love him, and there’s nothing you can do about it._

He choked out a sob. When he finally opened his eyes, his bedroom seemed very small. He could hear his mother moving around in the kitchen, the christian radio station playing quietly as she made breakfast. The music was almost drowned out by the sound of the wind against his bedroom window, but he could just about make it out.

Frank didn’t think he believed in hell, but a tiny corner of his brain seemed to disagree with him.

Frank remembered the day he’d gotten his first tattoo. He remembered the look on his mother’s face when he came home with colorful ink spreading across his back, the way she’d screamed at him about how he was destroying the body God had created for him. He remembered the creeping guilt in his stomach that he had known would come no matter how badly he had wanted that tattoo. That was the angriest he’d ever seen his mother - angrier than the first time he’d come home drunk, or when he’d gotten sent home from school for fighting, or even when he’d told her he was dropping out of college. To her, his body belonged to God, not to him. He was destroying God’s creation.

That’s how he felt now - guilt filling him up at the thought that he was doing something so inherently _wrong,_ even if the logical part of his brain knew it wasn’t wrong at all. He couldn’t get rid of what he had been raised to think, what he was still told every Sunday and reminded of every time he looked in the mirror and saw the crucifix around his neck.

He couldn’t be gay. He liked girls, he knew he did. He wasn’t going to let himself be gay. If he ignored it, it would go away. If he never saw Gerard again.

On Friday afternoon, he called Brian and told him that he was sick and couldn’t come to work that night. In truth, he hadn’t gotten out of bed since he’d gotten home early that morning, and couldn’t see that changing anytime soon.

He couldn’t go to work, because he knew that Gerard would be there, and he just needed to stay away from Gerard. If he didn’t turn up tonight, Gerard might get the hint and stop coming.

His heart sank at the prospect.

Frank’s mom was usually in bed before he left for work in the evening, or at least getting ready for bed, so she didn’t seem to have noticed that he didn’t go on Friday night. However, she did seem surprised to see him come downstairs at lunchtime on Saturday to make himself some food before dragging himself back in the direction of his bed.

“You’re up! Why are you up? Aren't you normally still dead to the world at this time?”

“Didn’t go to work. Felt sick.”

She cleared her throat. Frank stopped with one foot on the bottom stair. When he turned around, she was stood with her arms folded, looking stern, but when she saw the look on his face, her brain seemed to instantly switch into concerned parent mode. “You don’t look well, actually. How are you feeling? Do you have a fever again?”

He wriggled away from her. “I’m fine mom, I just need to sleep.”

As he made his way back up the stairs, he heard her shout, “Maybe it’s because you were out all night on Thursday!”  
His jaw clenched. He’d been trying his absolute hardest not to think about Thursday night, but with little success. Perhaps, he wondered, lying around in bed wasn’t the best way to clear his head and forget about it.

He couldn’t just forget about it though. Every time his eyes closed he saw Gerard staring at him from inches away, wet lips slightly parted and cold hand bumping Frank’s.He couldnt forget the feeling of Gerard’s thigh bumping his under the table in the diner, and the way his eyes had lingered on Frank’s mouth as he ate. And there had been the moments at the gig, the moments where he’d caught Gerard staring at him as they stood in the audience, or when he’d leaned close to him outside to light their cigarettes at the same time. His hand cupping Frank’s had been freezing.

Lying back down in bed, CD player on its fifth play of the same Bouncing Souls album, he realised that he couldn’t solve the problem by not doing anything. He couldn’t call in sick to work forever. Of course, there was always the chance that Gerard would get the hint and stop coming, but he couldn’t keep waiting until he could be sure. If he had to see Gerard, he had to see Gerard. He’d fucking deal with it like a man.

He managed to deal with it for a grand total of five minutes. When Gerard first walked in that night, Frank felt his breath hitch in his throat, and pointedly turned his gaze to the floor. He heard Gerard’s slow footsteps heading towards one of the freezers, where he presumably had sat down. Frank focused very hard on his shoelaces, hands clenched in fists at his side, and kept his mouth firmly closed.

“Frank?”

“Mhm?” He didn’t look up.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“You weren’t here last night.”

“I was sick.”

“Oh.” Gerard paused. “I’m sorry. If… if I did anything. The other night.”

Frank nodded tersely, still not looking up. He could picture Gerard’s hurt face - wide eyes, hair falling in front of them. It made his chest ache to think about.

Frank didn’t say anything else, and Gerard seemed to get the hint, and didn’t try and force a conversation. He left earlier than usual. When the door swung shut behind him, Frank let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and, much to his horror, felt tears prick at his eyes.

Church was a nightmare. It felt as if the universe was mocking him when Father Davis started reading that week’s bible verses, talking about marriage and love and children and a man and a woman, and Frank’s mom was right there next to him giving him sideways looks. Not because she knew, because she couldn't know, he was sure of it. But the feeling of her eyes on him every now and then made him want to melt into the ground. He felt like he was doing something horribly wrong by standing there and singing hymns and listening to sermons, surrounded by people who would hate him if they knew. All he could think about was Gerard. He wasn’t sure that confessing to “having impure thoughts” would really cover it at this point. And even though he knew that anything said in confession couldn’t be mentioned to anyone else, he couldn’t stop imagining the look on his mother’s face if it got back to her. If she ever found out that when he was lying in bed at night, listening to make sure that she’d gone to sleep, it was Gerard that he was thinking of. Gerard’s face and hands and neck that he thought of when he would give in and shove a hand into his pants and jerk off as quickly and silently as possible, eyes squeezed shut as if that would somehow make it less real.

It was when he was lying in bed that Sunday night, in fact, that he first wondered if something was really, properly up with Gerard. Of course, he’d wondered why he was only ever out at night, or why he never talked about his parents or any of his friends, but Gerard had just assumed that he was kind of weird. But Frank’s days of thinking about and picturing Gerard in such intense detail had made him realise that there was a lot more to his weirdness. The way his skin was so cold every time Frank brushed against it, and the way his face was stark white, and even the way he kept his hands in his pockets almost constantly. Maybe he was sick? _Shit_ , Frank thought, _that would actually explain a lot._ But Frank still remembered, in perfect clarity, the pained look on Gerard’s face when he’d seen Frank’s crucifix on that first day they’d spoken. Of course, a lot of people weren’t huge fans of the church, and of Catholicism, but Frank had never seen anyone physically flinch at it. For that, he couldn’t think of a single explanation.

And he was _sure_ that there was more to the way he felt for Gerard than just a crush. This wasn’t all on him - he was so oddly drawn to Gerard, the sound of his voice, even just his presence, in a way that he couldn’t explain. He’d had crushes before, plenty of them (granted, all on girls, but he had _definitely_ liked a lot of girls before), but none of them had been like this.

It took him hours to fall asleep. His mind was whirring, half trying to add everything up but coming up with nothing, and half just thinking about Gerard in that same way he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

The ringing of Frank’s phone on his nightstand woke him up some time on Monday afternoon. He’d been fast asleep despite sunlight streaming in through the windows, because he frankly didn’t want to be awake and thinking. Every minute he’d spent awake over the past three days he’d spent feeling sick with guilt and anger and confusion at the whole situation.

He didn’t want to answer the phone. It was probably Ray, or his mom calling from work to see if he was up at last. Eyes still closed, he knocked half of his things off the nightstand as he rummaged around for his phone and finally answered it.

“Hello?”

“Frank?”

He sat bolt upright, suddenly very awake. “Gerard? How the fuck did you get my number?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Gerard sounded exhausted. “I’m borrowing my brother’s phone. I need to talk to you.”

Frank pressed a hand against his forehead, resisting the urge to punch something. “About?”

Gerard paused. “Are you ok?”

“I’m great, thanks.”

“You didn’t seem ok at work.”

Frank’s mind was racing. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to throw his phone against the wall or crawl into it and surround himself with Gerard’s voice. “What’s up with you, Gee?”

“What?”

“There’s something fucking weird about you.” Frank didn’t know how to word it without outright saying that he felt _drawn_ to Gerard, like how two magnets would attract. It couldn’t just be a crush, or whatever it was that Frank felt for him. There was something else. “Tell me what it is. Please."

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Frank.” Even through the phone, Gerard sounded strangely nervous.

“Fine, I’ll spell it out for you.” Frank took a deep breath, a hand fiddling with his necklace. “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to be around you. I don’t like what you do to me, and I know you’re doing something. I’m never like this with girls, or boys, or anyone. And even on top of that, you’re just fucking weird and it’s creeping me out because I _know_ that there’s something you’re not telling me. You always go out at night, and you always go home just as the sun rises. You’re so pale that I wonder if you’ve _ever_ been outside during the day. You’re always cold, which you didn’t want me to notice so you stayed weirdly far away from me for weeks. You haven’t said anything about your parents, which makes me wonder if you even have parents. I’ve never seen you eat or drink anything. You have a way of making people want to hang out with you even if you hardly talk to them. So tell me what the fuck is going on.”

The second he finished speaking, he realised that he’d just effectively told Gerard the one thing he had told himself he could not tell him. He’d pretty much admitted exactly how he felt. _Fuck_. And on top of that, putting into words everything he’d noticed made it so glaringly obvious that something was up, so obvious that he couldn’t believe he’d gone that long without saying anything.

There was dead silence on the the other end of the line. Frank wondered if Gerard was even still there, until he heard him clear his throat softly. “Nothing’s going on.”

Anger bubbled up in Frank’s chest. He got to his feet, running a hand through his hair. “Gerard, for fuck’s sake, I’m not an idiot!”

“What do you think I’m doing to you?”

Frank sat back down, swallowing. “I meant just that,” he said slowly, willing himself to to reveal even more than he already had. “There’s… something. I can’t put it into words. You know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t.” Gerard voice sounded slightly shaky.

Frank didn’t say anything. He couldn’t think of anything _to_ say. He knew that Gerard knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I can’t tell you, Frank.”

“So there is something?”

“I… I can’t say anything.” Gerard paused again, and Frank heard a second voice in the background. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you.” He hung up the phone before he could change his mind, and threw it across the bed away from him.

In all honesty, he couldn’t decide if he was angry just because Gerard wouldn’t be honest with him, or if a part of him was trying to blame Gerard for the way he felt, for the way Gerard was _making_ him feel. There _had_ to be something else to it, Frank had never liked someone like this, where he felt sick with it, and couldn’t think about anything else, and felt like everything else had melted away when he was with them.

Frank’s mom wasn’t due home from work for another hour or so when the doorbell rang. He was still sat on his bed, head too full for him to even consider doing anything productive. After some debate with himself, he dragged himself to his feet and downstairs.

The last person he expected to see when he opened the door was Gerard. “Are you stalking me or something?”

“No.” Gerard looked at him shiftily. “I just… felt bad. And you weren’t picking up my calls.”

Frank wasn’t sure what to say. Gerard stood on the porch, staring at him.

“Look, Frank, I wish I could tell you what’s up. But I _can’t_.”

Frank wasn’t sure if he was angry or not. He wasn’t sure if he had anything to really be angry about, but the burning curiosity was eating him alive, and on top of that his stomach was flipping over just at the sight of Gerard on his doorstep. _He walked all the way over here to see you._

Hesitantly, he stepped back from the door and gestured at Gerard to come in. Gerard didn’t move. Frank opened the door wider.

Gerard’s eyes had gone even rounder than usual, and he slowly took his hands out of his pockets. “I, um… can’t.”

Frank stared at him. “What, you have somewhere to be?”

“No, I just… can’t come in.”

Frank narrowed his eyes, then, suddenly the thought hit him, and he felt as if his heart had stopped for a second. His breathing went rather shallow. “Gerard, do… do you need me to invite you in?”

Gerard didn’t say anything, just slowly raised his head until they locked eyes.

Frank backed away from the door, his heart pounding in his chest. _Vampire_. _He’s a vampire._ Pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, Frank wondered if now was the time to get back into the habit of praying.


	4. Chapter 4

_Ephesians 6:12- "_ _For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places."_

_1 Chronicles 11:19 - "A_ _nd said, “Far be it from me before my God that I should do this. Shall I drink the lifeblood of these men? For at the risk of their lives they brought it.” Therefore he would not drink it. These things did the three mighty_ _men."_

_Deuteronomy 32:17 - "_ _T_ _hey sacrificed to demons that were no gods, to gods they had never known, to new gods that had come recently, whom your fathers had never dreaded."_

_1 Peter 5:8 - "_ _Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."_

The pages of Frank’s bible fluttered in the breeze coming in through the slightly open window. He scowled, flipping back to the page he had been on, marking the corner much as he had marked the other pages he’d been reading, and got up to close the window. It was getting colder every day now; the breeze coming in had had a definite October chill to it.

He ran his finger back down the page to where he had gotten up to, and started to read again. The crucifix on the end of his rosary swung from his hand as he held the beads, lips moving silently as he read.

There wasn’t any other answer. Gerard was a vampire. Frank was a Catholic, and Gerard was a vampire. And a boy. Flipping his bible shut suddenly, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, thumb running over one of the rosary beads.

The TV on his dresser blared on in the background, horror movies playing on repeat as he scoured the pages in his lap for anything, anything at all, that might offer him some kind of answers.

At some point in the early hours of Tuesday morning, Frank decided he couldn’t take it. It couldn’t take sitting in his room trying to control his breathing and work out what he was supposed to do. He pulled on a hoodie, and a jacket over the top, and crept downstairs as quietly as possible, car keys rattling slightly in his hand.

He drove all the way to the other side of town, to the only store still open that he knew would accept his fake ID. He bought as much beer as he could realistically get away with, lugging it back to his car and making his way through at least four bottles before pausing. Leaning forward in the driver’s seat so that his head was pressed against the steering wheel, he reached a hand over and flicked the stereo on, not even bothering to check which CD he’d left in it. The music was probably playing too loud considering that it was past three in the morning, but he didn’t care. He just popped the cap off another bottle, using his keys to open it, and chugged half of it in one go. His eyes were wet.

Frank tended to be a very responsible driver; he’d gotten pretty good after more than a year of driving around the country with Pencey Prep. But as he threw back the last of his fifth beer and turned his keys in the ignition, he didn’t really care. He just needed to drive somewhere, anywhere. The roads were deserted, and the remaining beers rattled in the passenger seat as he tried to keep his vision steady and drove out of town towards the freeway. He considered going to the gas station, wondering if Gerard would be there. He didn’t, though - he pulled off onto a road leading uphill, his CD coming to an end as he slowed down and drove past neat little houses in neat little yards. The playground at the end of the road swam in his vision as he pulled up at the top of the hill, the town beneath him in the darkness.

As he stumbled out onto the grass, he felt tears prick at his eyes again. _You’re in love with a vampire._ He didn’t think any amount of beer could distract him from that. He was willing to try, though; He grabbed the rest from the passenger seat and put them down on the hood, leaning against the side of the car and squeezing his eyes tight shut. He wanted to break things, and scream, and cry even more than he already had done, and he wasn’t sure if he was more terrified of Gerard or of himself, because even knowing what he knew, he couldn’t stop the way he felt. He still felt just as much for Gerard as he had three days before, before he knew the ease with which Gerard could kill him if he wanted to. _Maybe I’d be ok with that._

The neck of the beer bottle was wet and cold in his fist. With all the strength he could muster, he hurled it at the ground, relishing in the sound of the smashing glass and the shards flying in all directions. The yellow glow of his headlights caught them, giving the ground a strange sparkle. Frank stared down at them, down at the remnants of the bottle’s label at his feet, and let out a sob. His head swam as he reached back into the driver’s seat for another empty bottle, not taking his eyes off of the shards of glass on the ground. The second one hit the asphalt with more force, skimming a few feet before exploding into tiny, razor sharp fragments.

He’d come here with Gerard. They’d sat on the hood and smoked and talked and it had felt so normal, and Frank hadn’t started his spiral into guilt and self hatred because he hadn’t yet realised just what his feelings for Gerard meant. He’d had that dream where they were sat here, and Gerard had kissed him, and it had felt _so good_. And he knew it could never, ever be real.

It was only when he reached for the third bottle, finally looking away from the shattered glass, did he see the blood running down onto his hand. He stared at it, following it up to the slice in his lower arm where a piece of glass must have skimmed him where he’d rolled his sleeves up. The blood was pooling in his hand as he held it out, before he lifted his arm up to his eyes to gaze at the cut. Getting wasted and driving around in the dark and smashing the bottles had almost felt like a respite, but the sight of the blood brought everything crashing back down on him. Slowly, he leaned back against the side of the car and slid down, legs crumpling under him until he was half propped up against one of the wheels, watching the droplets fall to the ground and crying properly now. The alcohol in his system had dulled the pain enough that he hardly noticed it, not even when he pressed his other hand against the cut in an attempt to stem the bleeding, with little success.

_Come on, Gerard. Come and find me._

Frank wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up. The sky was still a murky blue-grey, the colour he associated with driving home from work in the morning, and the playground behind him was deserted, so it couldn’t have been too late. He was freezing cold, curled in on himself on the ground next to his open car door. The bleeding had slowed to a sluggish _drip, drip_ onto the asphalt. He didn’t want to sit up. His face felt damp and swollen from crying, his head still spinning and stomach churning. But he had to go home.

He shivered as he dragged himself upright, shards of glass tinkling against the ground as he pushed them away and clung onto the side of the car. He couldn’t remember passing out, but it was a good thing he hadn’t been out long, because he’d left his headlights on and his keys in the ignition. He pushed the remaining beer bottles off the hood with little care for where they went, hearing them hit the ground and roll away.

The drive home was nerve racking. He’d sobered up just enough to realise that he really should not be behind the wheel, and was starting to feel the sting in his arm as he drove as slow as he possibly could. His mom’s car was still in the driveway when he pulled up next to it, so she hadn’t left for work yet. Part of him wanted to go back to hiding away in his room, but part of him wanted to crawl into her lap and cry just like he would have when he was little. But there was no way he could possibly explain any of this to her. She’d send him away, either to sort him out for liking boys or to sort him out for _going fucking insane_. So he went for the former option, sneaking past her bedroom door as quietly as he could when his legs were wobbling that much, and shutting his door softly behind him. His CD player was playing the same album on repeat, and must have been doing so ever since he left. His bible lay abandoned on top of his comforter, dozens of pages marked. Frank knew he should probably take a shower, or at least try and clean up his arm before falling into bed, but he couldn’t. He just wanted to forget about everything. Alcohol hadn’t worked, not really, and he’d hardly slept at all since he’d realised what Gerard was, so the feeling of slipping away into nothingness, still fully clothed, was appealing.

Frank supposed that he was probably lucky that his mother was at work and didn’t come in to check on him in the morning, because when he finally woke up in the early afternoon, he realised how much of a mess he must have looked. He was still wearing his jacket, sleeves rolled up, and he was lying half under the covers with his feet, still wearing shoes, hanging off the edge of the mattress. His mouth was horribly dry, face feeling itchy from the dried tears, and blood smeared on the pillow where his arm had been resting. The last thing he wanted was to get up and sort himself out, but he definitely needed to get up soon, if the time on his alarm clock was anything to go by.

He swallowed thickly when he sat up, willing himself not to throw up, and peeled his jacket off. He winced as the fabric dragged over the cut. One by one, he stripped off all of his layers and pulled his shoes off, before counting to three and standing up. The whole room swayed around him, so he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands over them, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his head.

Once he’d made it across the hall and into the shower, he finally took the time to properly inspect the damage. The gash didn’t seem so deep that he would need stitches, but it was still gaping slightly, and it stung when the hot water first hit it. Head under the stream, he inspected his hands and arms, finding a few smaller cuts here and there, even pulling a tiny fragment of glass out of the back of his left hand. Now that he was taking the time to check himself over, he was amazed that he was as unscathed as he was. He’d driven down the freeway five beers deep and somehow survived, and had managed not to get any glass in his eyes or anywhere else more delicate than his arms and hands. He’d passed out drunk outside, in October, completely alone, and had had the luck to wake up.

The shower did make him feel slightly more alive. He’d stopped feeling quite so dizzy when he stepped out, hair dripping, and dragged himself back to his bedroom. He didn’t have the energy to pick up his discarded clothes, but pulled on a relatively clean t shirt before realising he should probably put on long sleeves. He could only imagine the awkward questions if his mother saw his cut when she got home from work.

He spent the rest of the day, and the rest of the whole week, doing exactly as he had done for the past few days - reading and rereading every scrap of information he could find in his bible, everything that even vaguely mentioned demons or bloodsuckers or anything at all relevant. His rosary moved from his nightstand to the pocket of his sweats, his hand twisting in it and holding the beads for hours at a time. Whenever his hand wasn’t on his rosary or flicking through bible pages, it was holding the crucifix around his neck. He smoked through his entire stash of weed in the hope that it would calm him down, maybe make him feel better, but with no luck. Horror movies played over and over in the background.

On Friday afternoon, there was a knock at his bedroom door.

“What?”

"Frank? It’s Ray. Your mom said you weren’t feeling well.”

Frank smiled, genuinely smiled, for the first time in days. “Come in.”

Ray poked his head round the door, smiling. “How are you?”

Frank shrugged, sighing, and leaned back where he was sat on his bed so that his weight was on his hands. He regretted that almost instantly, though, because he saw Ray’s eyes flick down to his arm. “Fuck, what happened to your arm?”

He hurried to fold his arms as Ray sat down at his desk chair, staring at him with wide eyes. “Nothing, I just… I smashed a beer bottle and cut myself. It’s fine.”

Ray didn’t look like he believed him. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He shifted so that he was sat against the headboard. “How’re you?”

“I’m good. My mom gave me soup to give to you in case you were sick, but your mom stole it when she let me in.”

Frank chuckled. “Thanks, man. You got any pot?”

They smoked in near silence apart from the music from Frank’s CD player until Frank felt like he was sufficiently high enough to broach a topic that he definitely wouldn’t have the balls to being up while sober. He wasn’t sure why he felt like now was the time to do it, but something in him knew that Ray was the person to do it with, at least.

“Ray, can I ask you something kinda random?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Ray, smiling at Frank and looking expectant.

Frank cleared his throat. He’d thought about this a lot, working out how best to ask it without it coming across wrong. “Have you ever… I don’t know, kissed a boy?”

Ray looked slightly taken aback, scratching his neck. “I, uh… I don’t think so. Wait, yeah, but only as, like, a joke, or dare, or something.”

“Right.” Frank shifted so that his legs were crossed. “So you’re straight? One hundred percent?”

Ray sighed, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his curly hair. “I don’t think anyone can say that they’re one hundred percent straight. Like, I’ve never had a crush on a guy, but who’s to say I won’t at some point?”

Frank nodded, trying not to look overly relieved. “But you definitely like girls?”

“Hell yeah, man. I love girls.” Ray grinned, staring up at the ceiling and looking deep in thought.

Frank didn’t say anything, just stared down at the mattress and picked at a loose thread on one of his sheets.

“Frankie?”

He looked up, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. He knew what Ray was going to say. “Yeah?”

“Are you gay?”

He closed his eyes, fiddling with a strand of hair that was falling into his face. The familiar feeling of guilt was bubbling up in his chest, even though he _knew_ that Ray wouldn’t care, wouldn’t judge him, he knew that based on what Ray had just said. Ray was a good guy. But Frank wasn’t sure if he could actually say it. His mouth seemed to have stopped working. Finally, he cleared his throat, looking up. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Ray smiled kindly, nodding. “Okay, yeah, you don’t have to know yet.”

A smile spread across Frank’s face. “Thanks, man.”

“And, look,” Ray said, leaning forward in his chair and glancing up at the crucifix over Frank’s bed, the bible on his nightstand. “Don’t let them convince you that there’s anything wrong with it if you are.”

Frank hoped he wouldn’t cry out of sheer relief. Just knowing that Ray would have his back (well, maybe not with the vampire thing, but at least with the gay thing) felt like a weight listed off of his shoulders. There was someone else in on it, someone that knew at least a part of what was going on. Someone who wouldn’t tell him he was going to hell for something he couldn’t control, as much as he tried to.

* * *

He knew Brian would never believe that he was sick again, so he ran through everypossible excuse he could think of to not go to work that weekend, but came up with nothing. He didn’t think “I’m scared for my life because of the vampire who comes in every night that I may or may not be in love with” would really fly. And that was another problem: he couldn’t even pretend to himself that his feelings were gone. They were just mixed with terror. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but there was kind of morbid excitement filled him at the prospect of seeing Gerard again. It was outweighed by pure terror, sure, but it was still there. He still found himself thinking about the dream he’d had as he tried to fall asleep at night, or picturing the look on Gerard’s face when he’d leaned close to Frank on the porch after the concert. A week ago he would have never believed that he’d put the issue of Gerard being a boy to one side because it wasn’t of the most importance, but that’s exactly where he found himself on Friday. Surely it was worse to be in love with a demon than to be in love with a boy, right?

Frank couldn’t stop his hands from shaking for the whole first hour of his shift. He kept dropping people’s change and fumbling over his lighter when he went for a smoke out the window, because he was terrified that Gerard was about to walk through the door. But he was also terrified that he wouldn’t come. Either way, his stomach dropped when the door swung open and Gerard was stood there, staring at him.

“Gerard.”

“Frankie.” He crossed the threshold, walking slowly and staying pretty far away. “Can… can we talk?”

Frank gulped. “I know what you are.”

“I know.”

Frank closed his eyes tight for a second, before opening them and staring back at Gerard. “Were you planning on telling me?”

“I hoped I wouldn’t have to. And you worked it out, so I didn’t.” He took a tentative step closer. Frank fought the urge to recoil. Suddenly, Gerard’s eyes dropped to Frank’s bare arm. “You cut yourself?”

“Yeah. I mean… no, I didn’t _do_ it. It was an accident.”

“Last night?” Gerard’s eyes were fixed on the scabbed over gash.

Frank felt slightly sick. “How can you tell?”

Gerard lifted his gaze back up to meet Frank’s eyes. “I can smell the blood.”

Frank felt as if all of the blood had drained from his face, his head spinning. He gripped the countertop in front of him, trying to swallow down the fear. “Stay away from me."

Gerard nodded, taking a hasty step back, and tucked his hair behind his ears. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“If I was going to, I would have done it on Thursday night. Or the night where we drove to the top of the hill. I had you on your own.”

Frank shook his head. He knew that Gerard wasn’t lying, somehow, but he wouldn’t admit it. He wanted to keep up this front so that things would end badly and he’d have an excuse to hide from Gerard forever. The last thing he wanted was for his feelings to spiral out of control. “You realise we can never be friends, right?”  
Gerard hung his head. “If… If you don’t trust me, I get it. So, yeah.”

“I _don’t_ trust you.” He was lying. He knew he was lying, and he was worried Gerard knew, but he pressed on. “I don’t trust you. And I’m Catholic, and you’re a vampire, and I really, really liked you, Gee. But... I don't... we can't be friends."

“Say what?” Frank knew exactly what, but he wasn’t sure if Gerard had understood what he’d actually meant by it. He didn’t know if it was better or worse if he had.

“That you liked me. You shouldn’t.”

“I won’t, then.”

When he thought they’d been staring at each other for a little too long, he held out his hand over the counter. Gerard looked down at it, then at the cut on his arm, and then back up to his face. Frank gritted his teeth, looking straight at Gerard and silently praying that he wasn’t about to cry. Slowly, Gerard took a hand out of his pocket, extended it and took Frank’s. It was deathly cold and pale, and Frank stared down at the way Gerard’s long, bony fingers wrapped around his palm. He shook it, firmly and slowly, still staring at it, but suddenly he felt his self control and logic slipping away. Taking a deep breath and hardly thinking, he pulled Gerard forward by the hand and hugged him, leaning over the counter and wrapping his arms around Gerard’s neck. Gerard froze, his hands in mid air.

“Ok, I’m lying,” Frank muttered into Gerard’s shoulder. His hip was digging painfully into the counter, so he shifted so that one of his knees was on top of it, giving him a better angle at which to cling onto Gerard, eyes squeezed shut.

Gerard cautiously placed his hands on Frank’s back, chin on his shoulder. “What?”

“I can’t not like you. I wish I could.” Gerard would never know just how much he wished that, though, just how much he wished and hoped and prayed that he could never think of him in that way again, never dream about kissing him, never cry and cry and cry because of how badly he wanted him and how much he knew he could never have him. He started to cry then, pressing his face into Gerard’s hoodie and trying to keep his sobs as silent as possible. _Vampires have superhuman senses, don’t they? He can hear you._

One of Gerard’s cold hands inched its way across Frank’s back until it was resting on the back of his neck, fingers in his hair. It was oddly comforting, Frank thought, feeling Gerard’s hand holding him there, even if Gerard had no idea what was going on in his head. _Unless he does_. Frank’s stomach dropped. “Gerard, can you read minds?”  
“No,” Gerard laughed. “Why, you worried about me seeing what you’re thinking?”

Frank didn’t answer. He just pressed his face back into Gerard’s hoodie and closed his eyes again.

Now that he knew he hadn’t just been imagining it, Frank couldn’t help but notice just how cold Gerard was. As he sat next to Frank in the passenger seat, Frank almost felt like there was an air conditioning unit in the car with him. He wondered if Gerard felt the cold.

He drove without thinking, glancing over at Gerard as often as he could get away with without crashing as he slowed down near the top of the hill.

 _I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m not doing anything wrong, I’m not doing anything wrong._ The familiar mantra played over and over in Frank’s head as he pushed himself up onto the hood of the car and stared out over the town, still in semi darkness. Gerard held out his pack of cigarettes to Frank, one already in his own mouth, and smiled softly when Frank took one. They smoked in silence until Frank finally worked u the nerve to speak. “How does smoking work?”

"Hm?”

Frank looked over at him, kicking his feet against the headlights. “I mean… does it do anything? For you?”

Gerard blew out a stream of smoke pensively before answering. “It’s not the same as before, because I don’t need to breathe. I can feel it, but it’s… different. Not as intense, I guess.”

Now that he’d started talking, Frank realised just how many questions he had, how many things there were that he couldn’t learn just form his bible or from horror movies. And things he wanted to know about Gerard specifically. “And… you don’t eat. Or drink.”

“Well, I do,” Gerard said quietly. “Just… y’know…”

It hit Frank just then, more than it had at any other moment before, that he was sat having a smoke with a killer. Vampires killed humans, that was their whole thing, and Frank was sat there having a civil conversation with one. And staring at his hands, imagining how they would feel in places other than against the hood of his car. He was broken out of his reverie, however, when Gerard spoke again. “Frank, I don’t kill people.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t read minds?”

“I can’t. I could just tell that’s what you were thinking.” He took one more drag on his cigarette before chucking it away. “I don’t kill people, and I’d never hurt you.”

“So…” Frank wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to his next question. “So… how do you… eat?”

Gerard shrugged, watching the faint glow coming over the horizon. “Lots of ways. If I need to, I drink from animals. My brother steals blood from hospitals sometimes, or we drug people and bite them so they won’t remember when they wake up.”

“Your brother… your brother’s like you?”

Gerard nodded.

Gerard looked down. “I know it sounds terrible, but… It’s better than killing them. It doesn’t hurt them, and they don’t remember it, and we don’t do anything that we don’t absolutely need to.”

Frank let out a long stream of smoke before stubbing to his cigarette, completely unable to tear his eyes away from Gerard’s face. He couldn’t get rid of the mental image of Gerard taking some girl home from a bar, laying her down and sinking his teeth into her neck. But the image gave him another thought. “I’ve never seen your fangs.”

“They only come out when I’m about to feed.” He turned and gave Frank a huge grin, showing his teeth. They looked perfectly normal.

“So that you’re less conspicuous?”

Frank felt strangely relieved at that. _He drew you in. You’re not head over heels for him, it’s just a stupid crush. It feels like more because he’s a vampire._ “That explains a lot.”

Gerard looked at him, the grey morning light just beginning to illuminate his pale face. Frank couldn’t look away. It felt just like it had on the porch that night, except so different at the same time, because now Frank knew, and he couldn’t pretend to himself anymore. He knew what Gerard was, and he knew what he was. He knew what he wanted. For a second he wondered if he was going to kiss Gerard, just lean forwards and do it, but the spell was broken when a ray of sunlight broke over the horizon and illuminated the ground. Gerard glanced down. “I need to get home.”

“Yeah,” Frank breathed. At his feet, the smashed beer bottles still littered the ground. The ray of sunlight made them glitter. “Yeah, you want me to drive you?”

“It’ll be quicker if I run.”

“The superspeed thing is real then?” He slid off the hood and pulled open his car door, watching as Gerard tugged on the strings of his hoodie and tucked his pack of smokes back into his pocket, nodded.

“Man, that’s kinda cool.”

Gerard let out a small laugh. Frank felt his stomach twist.

Just as he turned to head off down the hill, Gerard paused. “Thank you, Frank.”

“For what?”

“Not freaking out. I… I didn’t wanna lose you.”

Frank forced his emotions not to show too much on his face, letting out a laugh. “Oh, I did freak out. You should have seen me over the past week.”

Gerard smiled. “Well… thanks anyway.”

“No problem.” He said it so quietly that if Gerard was a human he probably wouldn’t have heard it, but Frank knew he did.

For every minute Frank was awake over the next twenty four hours, he was coming up with more questions he had. It seemed strange to him that not even a week ago, he would have given anything to shut his brain up for a second, to stop thinking about it, to stop the nightmares that he was sure would come. But now he wanted to know everything he could, wanted to understand Gerard in his entirety. He wanted to know how Gerard was turned, how long he’d been a vampire for, wanted to hear about his brother and his parents and all the things he missed about being human and all the things he loved about being a vampire. He wanted to know if Gerard really was immortal, and if the books and movies were right about the ways to kill vampires. He wanted to know if Gerard would be around forever.

There was hardly a second of silence from the moment that Gerard walked into 7-Eleven on Saturday night to the moment he went home at sunrise. Frank kept asking questions as they sat in the front seats of his car, pulled up outside his house and hiding from the rain, making the most of the last few minutes of darkness before Gerard would have to leave. Gerard told him everything he wanted to know, laughing when he asked if he could still get high (he couldn’t). Frank offered to drive him home again, because the rain was still coming down hard, but Gerard refused. Frank wondered if he’d ever get to see Gerard’s house.

As he drifted off to sleep, he had to conclude that ultimately, he didn’t care what Gerard was. The knowledge of it couldn’t stop the desperate want that he could no longer pretend wasn’t there. He didn’t care that Gerard had the capacity for so much harm and evil, because he _wasn’t evil_. Frank was sure of it. Gerard wasn’t in control of what he was, and Frank wasn’t in control of what he wanted, and all he wanted was Gerard.


	5. Chapter 5

_"Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working."_

_(James 5:16)_

Frank tried to suppress the yawn, but failed miserably. Gerard must have seen it out of the corner of his eye and looked over at him, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “You tired?”

Frank shook his head, but Gerard gave him a look. “A little. I’m not _completely_ nocturnal.”

Gerard chuckled and leaned against the counter next to the open 7-Eleven window, his eyes closed as he took another deep inhale of his cigarette.

By that point, Frank had pretty much resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t really stop himself from staring at Gerard at every opportunity he got. It felt as if he had to memorise every inch of his face in case he suddenly came to his senses and vowed never to see Frank again; the curve of his pointy nose, the softness of his jaw, his long, dark eyelashes. The shape of his lips when he drew the bottom one between his teeth. Frank rested his head against the glass on the opposite side of the counter from Gerard, staring unashamedly by then. Not so unashamedly to keep looking when Gerard opened his eyes, though.

When his shift ended, Frank debated ignoring the heaviness of his eyelids and driving out to the hilltop again to watch the sunrise, but Gerard seemed to guess what he was thinking. “Go to bed, Frank,” he laughed, letting the glass door swing closed behind them. “It’s my fault you’re sleep deprived.”

He debated arguing, but just as he opened his mouth to reply another yawn came over him, and he supposed that Gerard probably had a point. For the past few weeks he’d found himself staying up all night not just on the weekends, but also a fair few times during the week; Gerard would call him from his brother’s phone and they would drive around for hours, or sit on the bonnet of his car and smoke, or go and watch the sunrise form the top of the hill, all while Frank asked Gerard question after question about being a vampire.

“Okay, maybe you have a point."

Gerard glanced back over his shoulder a couple of times as he walked off towards the road, flashing Frank a grin that made his breath catch in his chest. God, he was so fucked.

* * * 

Just as Frank reached over for his TV remote, stretched out on top of his bed, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

“Hello?”

“What are you doing right now?”

Frank choked slightly at the sound of Gerard’s voice. In all honesty, he’d been settling in for a jerkoff marathon to make the most of being awake while his mom wasn’t home for once. “N-nothing. Watching a movie. Why, you wanna hang out?”

It was only the late afternoon, but fall had properly set in by then and the sun was setting earlier and earlier every day.

“Sun sets in half an hour, if you want to,” said Gerard.

And so they did exactly what they always did; Frank drove around aimlessly, trying to keep his eyes on the road despite the constant temptation to glance back over at where Gerard was smoking out the open window. They listened to a Misfits CD and talked and talked and talked, and Frank tried not to dwell on just how at peace the sound of Gerard’s voice made him feel. He didn’t even mind that he never got to jerk off in the end. But there had been something he’d been wanting to do for weeks now, and he knew it was stupid and Gerard almost definitely wouldn’t agree to it, but he wanted to at least try.

After an hour or so, Frank made a decision. He knew it probably wasn’t a smart one, but hanging out with someone who would probably eat him if it came down to it probably wasn’t smart in general, so he chose to ignore the logical part of his brain once again. But Gerard stared over at him as he pulled up next to his house.

“Don’t invite me in, Frank.”

“What, you don’t trust yourself around me?” He took the keys out of the ignition, a hand on the car door.

Gerard didn’t answer at first, so Frank got out of the car and folded walked resolutely up the path. Somehow he just knew that Gerard would follow him. When he reached the porch step, he turned back around.

Gerard was rubbing his temples, eyes closed. “I don’t want to hurt you. Once you invite me in, you can’t keep me out.”

Frank clenched his jaw, one hand holding his door keys. “I won’t want to keep you out. I trust you. So come in.”

“I can’t, Frank.”

“Look,” said Frank, reaching to unlock the door. He’d made the decision now, he was going to fucking stick with it. “If you were gonna hurt me you would have done it now. You’ve had plenty of opportunities. So I don’t care if you don’t trust yourself, because I trust you. So stop being an idiot.”

Gerard watched him slowly push the door open and stand to one side, before closing his eyes and stepping over the threshold.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The grin on Frank’s face seemed to calm Gerard down a little bit. He smiled slightly, hands back in his pockets, and shuffled out of the way so that Frank could close the door.

As they’d been standing on the porch Frank had done a mental scan of the kitchen, trying to remember if his mom had any crucifixes up in there, seeing as that was the room that the door opened almost immediately into. The coast seemed to be clear though, and Gerard looked around the room with a strangely intrigued look on his face.

“What?”

Gerard’s gaze snapped over to him. “Hm?”

“What’s so interesting?”

“It’s just,” Gerard said, shrugging, “it’s been a while since I’ve been in anyone else’s house.”

Frank was surprised by how his heart jumped at that. He could just imagine Gerard going months on his own, too scared of himself to get close to a human, isolating himself completely. He watched as Gerard paced slowly around, running a pale hand over the table and countertop as if he’d never seen anything more interesting in his life. Or death, Frank supposed. More for something to do than an actual want to, Frank reached over and clicked the radio on. As music started crackling out quietly, Gerard turned back to look at him, a small smile playing on his face. He was leaning back against the countertop by now. If Frank took a step closer, he’d close the gap between them. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it._ But it was hard not to think about it when there was nothing but a foot or so of space between them, and Gerard was giving him that look that made his breath hitch, and it would be so easy to just do it, to just step forwards and kiss him. Suddenly, the front door opened with a loud clatter and Frank instinctively jumped back away from Gerard. Thinking back, he was probably standing far enough away from him to start off with that it would have looked _less_ suspicious if he’d just stayed there as his mom bustled into the kitchen holding armfuls of bags from the grocery store. She stopped when she saw them, car keys held in her teeth. Voice muffled by them, she managed to mumble, “Frankie, who’s this?”

Frank turned back to where Gerard was stood against the counter, looking vaguely terrified.

“Mom, this is Gerard.”

His mom stared at the pair of them, slowly starting to put the groceries down on the table. “Gerard?”

Gerard put on a clearly forced smile, standing up slightly straighter. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Iero,” he said.

She turned to Frank. “You made a new friend?”

“Why is that such a shock to you?”

She shook her head, walking over to the refrigerator. “It’s just been a while.”

Frank rolled his eyes. He could almost sense the amused look on Gerard’s face. “Well, we’re gonna go upstairs,” he said, grabbing the sleeve of Gerard’s hoodie and pulling him in the direction of the stairs.

“Will Gerard be eating dinner with us?”

Frank suppressed a grin, halfway up the stairs with Gerard right behind him. “No, I don’t think so.”

When Frank reached his bedroom door, he paused and turned around. “I need to take the crucifix down.”

“You have a crucifix on your wall?”

“Catholic mom,” Frank muttered. “Just wait here for a second.”

He pushed the door open and clambered onto the bed, balancing on his tiptoes to reach up towards the cross. When his hand touched it, he had a sudden wave of now familiar guilt; he’d never taken it down before, ever. Jesus was _always_ there, a constant reminder directly above his bed (and had caused him a fair few awkward conversations with girls he’d brought home before). Taking the crucifix down felt like stripping back yet another part of his upbringing and everything he was supposed to believe. He closed his eyes, still wobbling on his tiptoes, and took it off the little hook that it had been hanging on.

Once it was safely in his nightstand, he pulled open the bedroom door. “You can come in now.”

The sight of Gerard standing in the middle of his bedroom, hands in his pockets as usual and that intrigued look on his face, gave Frank the strangest feeling. There was something so oddly intimate about it, about Gerard looking around at the posters on the walls and the CDs on the shelves and the clothes littering the floor.

Hesitantly, keeping his eyes on where Gerard was reading the titles on the side of his DVDs, Frank closed the door. The sound made Gerard turn to face him, hand resting on _Friday the 13th_.

When the silence had stretched on for so long that it was getting painful, Frank gave Gerard a small smile. “After I worked out what you were I watched every vampire movie I had.”

“Were any of them accurate?”

Frank shrugged, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. “Kind of. You’re not as scary as any of the vampires in movies, though.”

“Hey, I can be super scary!” Gerard’s voice sounded indignant, but he was grinning.

“Come on man,” said Frank, leaning back on his hands. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Gerard’s face fell slightly - only for a split second, but Frank saw it, and his stomach flipped. “Sorry, man, I didn’t-“

“No, no, I get it,” said Gerard, nodding.

_He literally eats people, you idiot._

After a long pause, Gerard turned back to the shelf of DVDs. “I’ve never killed anyone, y’know. Ever.”

“Yeah?"

“Yeah.”

"So... you can drink from people without killing them?"

Gerard nodded.

Once again, Frank tried not to let his brain dwell on that for too long. Maybe his immense interest in that specific topic was a little concerning. For want of anything better to do, Frank got back up and crossed the room to where Gerard was standing and ducked down to look at the DVDs. “You wanna watch a movie?”

It was strange watching horror movies with a vampire, Frank thought to himself. Every now and then, Gerard would point out some random inaccuracy about the way the blood looked, or the way the colour drained from someone’s face as they bled out. It definitely should have creeped Frank out more than it did, but he felt strangely comforted by the feeling of Gerard next to him, both of them sat with their backs to his headboard. Of course, the fact that Gerard was sat next to him _on his bed_ was messing with his head a ridiculous amount, but he desperately tried not to let his mind linger on that. Or on the memory of what he’d done in that bed with the image of Gerard in his head. Or the dream. And suddenly he found himself unable to focus on anything except the way Gerard’s upper arm was pressed against his, the way their hands rested inches apart on the comforter, the way that he definitely would have been close enough to hear Gerard breathing if he was human. The blood and guts on the screen seemed much less interesting all of a sudden. He wondered what Gerard would do if Frank turned and kissed him, or even if he just shifted so that they were pressed more closely together. He wondered if Gerard would freak out again. He was half-tempted to find out.

“I should get home soon.”

His train of thought was cut off, probably for the best. “Why?”

“I don’t wanna impose. If you and your mom are eating dinner soon.”

Frank turned slightly so he was half on his side. “You’re not imposing! I invited you in!”

Gerard shook his head slightly, then muttered, “You probably shouldn’t have.”

“For fuck’s sake,” said Frank, propping himself up on an elbow. “You haven’t bitten me yet, have you? And you’ve been here for, like, two hours nearly.”

When Gerard didn’t say anything, Frank sighed and continued. “Weird how a couple weeks ago you were telling me that you wouldn’t hurt me, and now it’s the other way around.”

Gerard looked up at him, wide-eyed. Frank was half on his front held up by one arm, Gerard partially underneath him.

“I still don’t see why you’d want to hang out with me. Why you’d risk it,” Gerard whispered.

Frank swallowed, trying not to dwell on the way Gerard had tilted his chin upwards slightly so that their faces were even closer together. “You know why.”

It would have been so easy to duck his head down and press his lips to Gerard, to forget that his mom was downstairs and would hate him if she knew. Frank could tell from the look on Gerard’s face that they were thinking the same thing.

The movie played on in the background, loud enough that it took Frank a second to register the knocking at the door before it opened. Instinctively, he leapt as far away from Gerard as possible without falling off the bed, cheeks flushed and heart racing. His mom stared at him. “Dinner’s almost ready."

He forced his face into something that he hoped resembled an innocent smile. “Ok, cool.”

She looked between the two of them. Frank could see the colour rising in her cheeks, the way her eyes had gone very wide telling him that he hadn’t moved fast enough. When she left the room eyes still on him, she only pulled the door halfway closed. He turned his head to look over at where Gerard was sat, frozen, still staring at the door.

“I… I should go,” he said quietly.

In silence, they got to their feet, not meeting each other’s eyes, and traipsed downstairs. Frank could still feel his heart thumping in his chest as he held open the front door for Gerard, his mom’s eyes on the back of his head as he said an overly formal goodbye. He felt sick.

He still couldn’t bring himself to look up and meet her gaze as he sat down opposite her at the dinner table. They ate in silence for a good few minutes before she pointedly put down her cutlery and clasped her hands in front of her. “Gerard seems nice.”

He nodded, mouth full of mashed potatoes.

“Bit odd looking,” she continued. “Very pale. Dresses funny.”

“He doesn’t dress funny.”

She picked up her fork again, still watching him. “I haven’t seen him at church before.”

He’d known that was coming. His mom loved Ray, because even though his parents weren’t on the same level of bible-thumper as her, she’d seen the Toros at church every weekend since they’d moved there.

“He’s not Catholic.” He didn’t need to look over at her to know what look was on her face.

“Yes, I thought as much.”

_She didn’t see anything. You didn’t do anything._

But Frank could tell from the stiff silence filling the room for the rest of the meal that she had her suspicions. _She can’t prove anything, she can’t prove anything, she can’t prove anything._ He didn’t want to accept that everything might be ruined for good.

* * *

Frank was thankful that Gerard didn’t bring any of it up at the gas station a few days later. Their conversations felt slightly stiff, though, as if Gerard was walking on eggshells, worried that if he said the wrong thing Frank would burst into tears, or something. And, in all honesty, he probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

They shared a smoke and talked about nothing that mattered; music and movies and how Frank was hoping to get another job as a roadie soon, and how the slurpee machine at the back of the store had broken. The whole time, Frank was debating with himself how much he was willing to risk.

When Frank’s shift ended, they left the store in near silence. Gerard was a few paces ahead of Frank as they crossed the parking lot, and as he watched Gerard lead the way towards his car in an unspoken agreement that they were going to go for a drive again, Frank made his decision.

“I think I really like you, Gee.”

Gerard stopped walking. Frank could see his shoulders tense up before he slowly turned around. “Don’t say that.”

Frank’s heart sank. “Why?”

Letting out a small sigh, Gerard looked him up and down and ran a hand through his hair. “Because,” he said, taking a small step towards Frank. “You don’t. Trust me.”

The sky was still dark, but Gerard’s pale face was lit up by the glaring lights of the gas station parking lot, making him look like a ghost. Frank stared straight at him, trying desperately not to break the eye contact despite how much he wanted to look back down at the ground and pretend he hadn’t spoken. “I do.”

Gerard shook his head slightly and turned back to keep walking. “Please don’t do this, Frank.”

“Hey!” Frank broke into a jog for a few paces to catch up. When he grabbed onto the sleeve of Gerard’s hoodie, he stopped again but didn’t turn around straight away. When he finally did turn to look down at Frank, Frank felt his anger drain away slightly, the look on Gerard’s face making him almost want to cry. “Okay. I’m sorry, forget I said anything.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Gerard nodded slowly before opening the passenger side door of Frank’s car and getting in. Frank stood there for a moment, staring straight ahead, and took several deep breaths.

The sun was still down when they got to the top of the hill; as the days were getting shorter they had more and more time together before Gerard had to get home, more time for Frank to ask him questions or just to sit and look at him. That’s exactly what he did that morning - sitting on the hood of the car, he stared over at where Gerard was stood right at the crest of the hill, looking out over the town. The smoke from his cigarette hovered in a cloud around his dark halo of hair, no wind to blow it away. As he let a stream of smoke out of the side of his mouth, Gerard looked down at the ground, watching the ash fall onto the grass.

“Gerard?”

“Yeah?” Gerard looked up, eyes wide.

“Were you going to kiss me that night? On my porch?” The second the words left his mouth, he regretted speaking at all. He felt blood flow to his face and bit his lip, as if that would stop him saying anything else stupid. Gerard’s eyes were fixed on him; Frank could feel his gaze even when he looked back down at his shoes, resting on the bumper of the car.

After a painfully long silence, Gerard answered. “I thought about it.”

“But you didn’t."

Gerard let out a soft sigh. “You didn’t know what I was. It would only have gotten complicated. And I was worried about the whole… Catholic thing.”

Frank shook his head very slightly, as if to clear his mind of the thoughts racing through it. “You must have known. You must have known that I wasn’t… that I wouldn’t hate you for it.”

“Did _you_ even know at that point?”

“What, that I liked boys or that I liked _you_?” As he spoke he looked up at last, jaw clenched and hands gripping the edge of the bonnet.

“Both,” Gerard almost whispered.

Slowly, Frank shrugged. “I guess I couldn’t admit it to myself until that night. Because I knew that I wanted you to kiss me. I couldn’t deny it.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, scratching the back of his neck. “But then you didn’t kiss me.”

Gerard was still staring at him indignantly, his eyes very round. “You know why I didn’t.”

And he did know why. He wasn’t sure why he’d even asked. If Gerard had kissed him on the porch it would have gone one of two ways: one, he’d panic completely, vow to himself to never see Gerard again and completely ignore the big part of him that wanted nothing more than to be kissed again. Two, he’d somehow get over the guilt and Gerard _would_ kiss him again, and it would grow and grow until Gerard would have had to tell him that he was a vampire, and, as Gerard had made painfully clear, _humans and vampires couldn’t be together._ He knew that Gerard wouldn’t have wanted to risk either of those happening, but a little part of him was still angry about it. Gerard wasn’t going to kiss him now, he knew that. He almost laughed for some strange reason. “It’s so fucking stupid. You won’t kiss me because you’re a fucking vampire.”

“I _can’t_ kiss you,” Gerard muttered.

Frank did laugh then, short and sharp, sitting up straighter. “Y’know, I kind of thought that me being raised Catholic and having a homophobic mother would be the biggest problem here. I have to deal with that on my own.” He paused, rubbing his eyes. “It’s pretty shit, knowing you like a boy and knowing everyone would hate you if they found out. And then you force yourself to be okay with it, and it turns out the boy you like won’t even kiss you.”

Gerard had closed his eyes, head turned back to face the ground. Gerard could tell that his hands had formed fists in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? For being a vampire?”

“I’m sorry that you had to put up with so much shit.”

“ _Have_. Not _had_ ,” said Frank. “Present tense. If my mom found out she’d pack me off to church camp.” He started rummaging in his pockets. He needed a cigarette. “She’s suspicious.”

Gerard bit his lip. “You think she’s gonna find out?” He said.

“She will at some point, I guess. I just have to hope that it’s after I’ve moved away, gotten out of this shithole. Or maybe she won't, if I just marry a girl one day to shut her up. But _fuck_ , man, I just wanna get out of here."

He’d been focusing hard on lighting his cigarette, cupping a hand around the lighter to protect it from the wind, so didn’t notice that Gerard had moved until he sat down next to him on the hood.

“So why haven’t you left already?” He said quietly.

Frank looked up at him at last. “Do you _want_ me to leave?”

“I can’t think of anything I want less.”

And Frank had another one of those moments where he felt his breath catch in his throat, and he could hear his own heartbeat, and Gerard probably could too, and he just wanted to kiss him and keep kissing him forever. But he couldn’t.

* * *

For the entirety of the church service that weekend, Frank’s mom was shooting him sideways glances. It was hardly a first, but it felt different this time, even more accusatory and suspicious and guilt tripping. Frank felt sick with the guilt as he kept his eyes glued firmly forward, watching Father Davis and seeing his mother’s glances out of the corner of his eye.

She couldn’t prove anything. She didn’t actually _know_. And she wasn’t going to find out, as long as he didn’t do anything stupid. _Letting her meet Gerard in the first place was stupid._

When he made his way to the confession booth after the service, he saw her sit stiffly in one of the pews to wait, eyes following him. But he didn’t have anything else to confess, nothing more than ‘impure thoughts’, he supposed, because he still hadn’t actually _done_ anything. He hadn’t done anything that she could get angry about, really. But that didn’t stop him worrying as he sat in the passenger seat of her car on the way home, avoiding eye contact with her by staring out the window.

It was only when they were in the kitchen that the silence was broken. She put her purse down on the table slightly too loudly and cleared her throat, and Frank closed his eyes with dread before turning to face her. “Yes?”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No,” he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“Nothing at all?” Her voice was light and calm, but Frank could tell she was about to go right over the edge. “You don’t want to tell me anything in light of Father Davis’ sermon?”

“No, mom. There’s nothing I wanna tell you.”

She turned and opened the fridge rather huffily, but when she spoke her voice still came out very measured. “Well… if there was anything you needed my help with-”

“Actually,” he said, taking a deep breath and scratch the back of his neck, “you should probably know that I disagree with what Father Davis says sometimes. And what you say.”

Her head snapped around so quickly it looked painful. “What?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure where this nerve was coming from, but he knew that he needed to say what he was thinking. “About… about marriage, and stuff.” She had definitely caught on to where this was going by now, and he could almost see the anger bubbling up. But he couldn’t stop. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with… I mean… I don’t think it has to always be a man and a woman.”

“Frankie,” she said, taking a step towards him. “I know you like to do things just to annoy me. You always have. But how many times do you have to be told something before you listen?” Her voice quivered slightly.

His hands had curled into fists in his pockets. “I’m not saying it just to annoy you. I think God’s whole thing is to be loving, and telling people that they’re going to hell for who they want to marry isn’t very loving.”

“And there’s nothing else you want to tell me, then?” Up this close, Frank could smell her perfume and see the flecks of grey in her hair.

“No,” he whispered.

She nodded slowly. “Go to your room. I’m not having this argument with you.”

He debated refusing, debated mentioning the fact that he was almost 20 and she couldn’t tell him what to do. But he didn’t. He turned and walked up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door behind him.

He didn’t have Gerard’s brother’s number saved in his phone, so had to scroll all back in his call log to the last time Gerard called him. He lay on his bed with his feet hanging off the edge and pressed the phone to his ear, listening to it ring.

“Hello?”

Even though he’d been expecting it, he jumped when he heard a voice other than Gerard’s. “Hey, uh… I’m a friend of Gerard’s? Can I talk to him?”

The voice let out a disgruntled sigh, before Frank heard the muffled shout of, “Gerard, it’s Frank!”

There was a very loud clattering sound on the other end of the line, followed by a chuckle, before Gerard picked up the phone. “Frank?”

“Can I come over?” It slipped out before he’d even planned how he was going to word it.

Gerard made a surprised spluttering noise. “What?”

“I just… I need to get away from my mom for a while.”

When Gerard didn’t say anything, Frank scowled. “Don’t you dare start with some bullshit about it wouldn’t be safe for me or something.”

“Well, it’s just… alone in a house with two vampires?”

“One of them is _you_. And I can’t imagine you’d let your brother do anything to me.” He took a deep breath, waiting for Gerard to say something. “Please.”

“Alright, fine.”

Frank grinned. “Gerard?”

"Yeah?”

“How did your brother know my name?”

There was another pause. “I… I may have mentioned you. And you won’t be surprised to hear that I don’t call many people.”

Frank giggled.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected Gerard’s house to look like, but Frank was slightly shocked when he pulled up outside a neat little bungalow on a street a little way outside town. The houses were spread apart, parked cars outside some of them, but no one else in sight. It wasn’t like he’d been expecting Dracula’s castle or something, but Frank did chuckle to himself slightly at the idea of two vampires living in a house in the suburbs that looked more like it would belong to an elderly couple.

Gerard had texted him his address; the sun was still up, so obviously it would be pretty difficult to come and meet him. He’d had to sneak out as silently as possible, because although he was pretty sure his mom wouldn’t stop him going out, he really didn’t want a shouting match. He’d been trying not to think about their argument; it wasn’t the first one they’d had about that sort of thing, but it was the first one where Frank had just _known_ that she’d suspected that there might be more to it, that he might be hiding something from her.

The grass either side of the path up to the door was uneven and slightly dead-looking, as if no one had payed it much thought in a fair few years. All of the curtains in the front-facing windows were drawn, unsurprisingly, and Frank felt oddly nervous as he knocked on the door. When Gerard opened it, he stood sheltered behind the wall out of the way of the beam of sunlight that flooded the hallway as Frank stepped inside.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Frank smiled up at Gerard, before the inside of the house caught his eye and he looked around. “Not what I expected.”

Gerard nodded slowly. “It was my parents’ house.”

Frank followed him down the hallway and into the living room where, once again, the curtains were all drawn. The only real light came from the TV, where some mindless daytime talk show was playing. Gerard kicked the back of the sofa hard, and a bemused, bespectacled face appeared over the top.

“Mikey, this is Frank. Frank, this is my little brother, Mikey Way."

Mikey turned to face Frank, looking over the top of his glasses. “Frank?”

“Yeah.” Frank tried to sound jovial, but the withering look Mikey was giving him made his smile falter slightly.

Mikey turned his gaze to Gerard, who sighed. “Look, Mikes, can we… talk about this later?”

Frank looked between the two brothers. Mikey was staring at Gerard with an unreadable look on his face, arms folded. “Yeah, we’re gonna talk about this later.”

Gerard nodded and grabbed the sleeve of Frank’s jacket, dragging him off towards the stairs down to the basement. Frank was still trying to work out what that whole exchange had been about when Gerard closed his bedroom door behind him.

“Gee, what was that?”

“That was Mikey.” Gerard replied meekly.

Frank rolled his eyes, tugging his jacket off and throwing it over the back of a chair. “Yeah, I got that.”

Gerard scratched the back of his head, avoiding Frank’s eye. “He’s probably mad that I told you.”

“Told me- oh.”

Gerard nodded.

Frank hadn’t properly looked at the room when he had first walked in, but he looked at it now, taking in the clothes littering the floor, the posters and drawings pinned to the walls, the full ash tray on the bedside table. It was distinctly _Gerard_. He suddenly caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on the open wardrobe door. “You have a mirror?”

Gerard was watching him look around, looking nervous. “Yeah. It’s been there since… before.”

“Oh.” He stared into the glass, then glanced over his reflection’s shoulder to where Gerard should be standing. He could see the bed, and the Millennium Falcon poster on the wall next to it, but no Gerard.“So… you don’t have a reflection?”  
Gerard shook his head.

Frank let out a slow breath. “Damn.”

They were stood rather awkwardly in the middle of Gerard’s room, Frank running his gaze over the drawings pinned up on one of the walls, while Gerard’s eyes followed his movements.

Slowly, Frank lifted his hand up and lightly touched one of the sketches. “These are amazing.” He leaned closer to it, finger resting on the surface of the paper. “Are these all of Mikey?”

Gerard nodded, then realised that Frank was still facing away from him. “Yeah. After he turned it took him a while to get used to the whole no-reflection thing. He didn’t want to forget what he looked like.”

“Damn,” Said Frank, again. He took a deep breath, and turned back around to face Gerard. “It’s a shame I can’t draw for shit. I’d draw you.”

Gerard laughed. “I’m sure I’m not missing much.”

Frank shook his head. “That’s not true.”

To break the overly long silence as they stared at each other, Gerard forced out a chuckle. “It makes putting eyeliner on a bit harder, though.”

“Well, that’s something I _can_ help with.”

Slowly, Gerard nodded towards the desk in the corner of the room. A smile on his face again, Frank started rummaging through the drawers of the desk, digging around under stacks of paper and art materials and god knows what else until he found a slightly blunt eyeliner pencil.

Gerard swallowed. Frank took a step towards him, pulling the lid off the eyeliner, and reached one hand up to gently tug his head down.

“You’re too tall for this.”

“I think it’s more that you’re too small.”

One hand moving to his chest, Frank nudged Gerard backwards until his thighs hit the edge of his bed. “Sit.”  
Frank felt slightly out of his depth by this point. He was stood in between Gerard’s thighs, a hand resting on his cheek as he leant in with the eyeliner pencil. He was standing inches away from a vampire.

“Look up.”

Gerard did so, allowing Frank to smudge black into his waterline and onto his lower lashes rather messily. He thought he was doing a pretty solid job of it, though, considering how hard he was trying to keep his breathing slow and even. Gerard’s cheek was cool and smooth under his fingers as he tilted his head this way and that, almost like marble. Part of Frank still expected to feel Gerard’s breath on his face, even though he knew that Gerard didn’t need to breathe, but he felt nothing, despite Gerard’s lips being very slightly parted and only inches from his own.

After mirroring what he’d done on the other eye, Frank whispered, “close your eyes.”

His back was starting to ache slightly from bending over at such an odd angle, but just as that thought occurred to him, Gerard’s cold hand slid onto his waist and lightly twisted into the side of his shirt. He suddenly noticed that he was holding his breath as he lined Gerard’s upper lashes with black. Before he even realised what he was doing,he slid into Gerard’s lap. He felt Gerard tense slightly under him, his eyes twitching as Frank moved onto the left one.

“Hold still.”

“Sorry.”

Once again, Frank’s brain seemed to be fighting against itself - half of it telling him that _this is wrong, you’re gonna get found out_ , _and he’s a fucking vampire_ , and the other half focusing entirely on the way their chests were almost pressed together, Frank’s rising and falling as he tried to control his breathing, Gerard’s deathly still. The way Gerard’s hand twisted slightly tighter in Frank’s shirt, the other coming up to rest on his hip.

Gerard didn’t open his eyes when Frank finished doing his eyeliner and chucked the pencil onto the bed somewhere, and Frank didn’t move away even an inch. Somewhere above them, music was playing.

“Frank.”

“Yeah?” It came out as almost a whisper.

Gerard turned his head a fraction so that their noses brushed. Frank was sure that Gerard could feel his breath on his lips by now, or the way his heart was beating. With a jolt to his stomach, Frank wondered if Gerard could _hear_ his heart beating. Or smell his blood.

He only had to tilt his chin up the tiniest bit for their lips to touch. With one hand still cupping Gerard’s cheek, and the other resting on his shoulder, Frank kept his mouth against Gerard’s. Not pressing or moving, just touching. A tiny noise escaped through Gerard’s cold lips as he gently nudged Frank away with his forehead. “No, Frank.”

“Why? Why not?”

When Gerard finally opened his eyes a fraction, they were such a dark shade of red that Frank probably wouldn’t have noticed any difference if he hadn’t been so close up. “I don’t want to hurt you.” They were both still whispering.

“What makes you think you will?"

“I know I will.”

“Well then,” said Frank, still feeling strangely bold as he tilted his hips forward slightly so that their crotches were directly against one another. “What makes you think I’ll mind?"

Gerard groaned quietly as Frank’s breath ghosted over his jaw, before one of his hands slid up Frank’s torso and rested directly over his heart. “I can smell you. It’s too much. And you’re only doing this because you’re angry at your mom."

Frank brushed over Gerard’s cheekbone with his thumb. “Bullshit. You know that’s bullshit.”

Neither of them noticed that the music coming from above them had stopped until the door burst open and Mikey strode in. Almost as if a switch had been flipped, Frank leapt off of Gerard’s lap and onto the bed next to him, pressing both of his hands into his lap and breathing heavily as Gerard grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his crotch.

Mikey looked between them, eyes narrowed. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope.” Gerard smiled innocently.

“Sure.” His voice dripped with sarcasm as looked over at where Frank was still trying to gain some control of his breathing. “Gerard, we need to talk.”

“About…”

Mikey pointedly looked at Frank, then back to Gerard.

Frank felt annoyance bubble up inside him. “Don’t get angry at Gerard for telling me. I’d pretty much worked it out.”

Gerard nodded profusely. “Look, Mikes, I didn’t really tell him. He worked it out, and I just didn’t deny it.”

“As long as he knows what’ll happen if he tells anyone.”

Franks eyes widened as he turned back to look at Gerard. “What?”

“He won’t tell anyone.”

“He’d better not.”

“I don’t really have anyone to tell,” Frank muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“Good.” Mikey looked between the two of them one more time, before turning and leaving.

Frank and Gerard looked at each other again.

“Sorry.” Gerard tucked his hair behind his ear, eyes flicking down to the floor.

“Stop fucking apologising for everything.”

They stayed sitting there, just looking at each other, until Frank’s phone rang.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right I realised the other day that I haven't been very chatty so far so hello everyone :)  
> Thank you all for your lovely kudos and comments, I'm going to try and start replying to them all. It's amazing to see that people are enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it, so if you are please let me know with more kudos and comments, they make me so so happy!
> 
> My Tumblrs are p4tr0ns4int and mimimustdie as well if you're into crappy poetry or just want to come and say hi, and my twitter is mimimustdie as well. 
> 
> Again, thanks for reading and I hope you're enjoying it so far! :)

_"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."_

_(Philippians 4:8)_

The music store was mostly empty, only one or two people wandering around and looking at the guitars on the wall, so Ray was leaning against the counter with his earphones in when Frank pushed the door open. It was definitely getting cold outside, a late October chill freezing the ground every morning, so Frank was wrapped up in about three hoodies.

“Hey, Frankie!” Ray looked up when he walked in, pulling out one earphone and smiling.

Frank smiled back, pulling one of his hoodies off to counter the slightly ferocious heating in the store. “You got any steel A strings?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” said Ray, walking out from behind the counter and gesturing at one of the shelves where there were stacks and stacks of boxed up guitar strings. “you broke it?”

As Frank was paying, Ray leaned forwards over the counter with a very smug look on his face.

“What?”

“Well, I was gonna call you later to tell you, but since you’re here,” said Ray gleefully. “I have another job for you.”

“Fuck yeah, when?"

“Tuesday. But it’s not the same as last time.”

“What, I’m not helping out backstage?” His heart sank slightly. He’d actually enjoyed himself last time, and he’d gotten to go to a show for free, so overall it had been pretty great.

But Ray’s smile got even wider. “Better. I have some friends who know these guys in a band and their guitarist’s broken his wrist. Can’t play.”

As it dawned on Frank what Ray might be about to ask him, he couldn’t stop the smile on his face. “So they need someone to play?”

“Yep,” said Ray, nodding. “They asked me to do it myself, but I’m out of town on Tuesday, so… I thought you’d want to.”

He nodded vigorously, smile widening. It had been so long since he’d played a show, since he’d got the feeling that you can only get from being up on stage with hundreds of people cheering you on and singing back to you.

“They’re playing support, so it’ll only be, like, four songs, but I’ll give you the guys’ numbers.”

“Awesome, thank you!” He tried to keep his voice relatively calm, but Ray gave him a look like he knew exactly just how excited Frank was.

He drove home with the smile still stuck on his face, the numbers of the guys in the band saved in his phone and a new guitar string in his pocket. It was only when he opened the front door, unzipping his hoodie, that his mood was dragged back down by the sound of the TV coming from the living room, and the reminder of everything going on with his mom. She’d hardly spoken to him since the previous Sunday - six days of the near-silent treatment. In a way, though, he was almost glad; he wasn’t sure if he could trust himself to get into another argument with her without letting something slip out of pure frustration and anger. He wasn’t stopping him from going out or anything, so he was still taking every opportunity to go for aimless drives with Gerard, and was thankful that Gerard didn’t bring up anything that had happened with his mom. The last thing he wanted was sympathy from him. It was a bit depressing, though, to come home every day only to be almost totally ignored by his own mother, especially considering that he hadn’t even really _done_ anything.

He traipsed past the living room door, glancing in to see the TV playing reruns of old sitcoms in the background while his mom sat on the sofa reading. She didn’t look up at the sound of him passing.

He was a few minutes early to work, because he would much rather be sat around waiting for Gerard to show up than sat around waiting for his mom to scream at him. But Gerard had started showing up lightly earlier each weekend, only by ten minutes or so each time as if he thought Frank wouldn’t notice, but obviously he did. Seeing Gerard was just about the only part of his week he looked forward to; the rest of it was just made up of sitting around at home, unenthusiastic job searching and getting drunk with Ray and his friends every now and then. _God_ , he hated living in a small town. So small that he and Gerard could see the whole thing spread out beneath them when they drove back up to the top of the hill and lay back on the hood of his car to smoke and wait for the sun to come up, flooding the little town with an orange light. 

And Gerard looked so ridiculously pretty lying there with his dark hair fanning out around him, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth and staring up into the inky blue sky, so pretty that Frank almost forgot how to breathe.

“Fuck. you’re fucking killing me, man,” he groaned, tilting his head to the side to watch as Gerard brought his cigarette back up to his mouth.

A small smile on his face, Gerard shook his head slightly.

The metal of the hood of the car creaked slightly as Frank shifted onto his side, head against the windscreen to better stare down at Gerard. He was reminded of that dream he’d had again, before any of this. That dream, he supposed, had been the start of it all, the first time he realised that the way he felt about Gerard might not be completely friendly, and it was so strange to think that there had been a time where he’d told himself he didn’t feel anything more for Gerard. A month or so on and he was completely and totally infatuated with him, and couldn’t imagine feeling any other way. The way he felt still scared him slightly, though, because he had never felt like this for anyone else, and he felt almost out of his depth. _It’s because he’s a vampire_ , he kept reminding himself. _He’s got that hold on you._

But as he stared over at Gerard, the cold metal of the car bonnet underneath him and the cold skin of Gerard’s hand just resting against his, it was hard to believe that Gerard could ever hurt him.

“When did you realise?” Gerard’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but they were lying so close together that Frank heard him clearly enough.

“Realise what?”

Gerard broke the eye contact, glancing down. “Y’know. That you were…”

“Oh.” Frank had thought about that a lot, about whether he had actually known for ages that he liked boys, and if he’d just been trying to ignore it. “I don’t know. I only properly accepted it, like, a month ago. But maybe I knew for a while and just repressed it. I think… well, because I'm pretty sure I like girls too I managed to never really think about it.” He turned onto his back again, blowing smoke up at the slowly lightening sky.

“What made you realise, then?”

“Oh, come on, you don’t need me to answer that,” he said, but it came out much less lighthearted than he’d intended.

Gerard’s hand twitched next to his, but he didn’t move.

“You really want me to tell you the first time I realised something was up?” He said with a sigh.

Gerard nodded again, their eyes locked and their faces much too close together.

Frank tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette without looking, and smirked. “I had a dream about you.”

That clearly hadn’t been the answer that Gerard had been expecting. His eyes got impossibly wider, and his throat shifted as he swallowed. “You- what kind of dream?”

Frank let out a short laugh and finally broke the eye contact, looking back up at the sky and taking another deep drag on his cigarette. “Ok, you _really_ don’t need me to answer _that_ one, surely.”

Gerard didn’t say anything, but Frank could tell he was still staring at him. As he shifted slightly to tug on the suddenly tight crotch of his jeans, he couldn’t help but think about the dream in much too much detail; they had been just there, sat on the hood at the top of the hill and waiting for the run to rise, and Gerard had kissed him so hard he’d been pushed back against the cold metal, and their hands had been all over each other, and Frank had woken up grinding against the mattress. And from there he couldn’t stop his mind from wondering what would happen if he turned back onto his side and pressed his mouth to Gerard’s. He could remember how cold his lips had been when they’d sort of kissed in Gerard’s bedroom; he hadn’t thought about much else since.

“Tell me.”

Frank turned his head back to face Gerard. “What?”

“Tell me about the dream.”

He felt his cheeks burn. His jeans were definitely feeling uncomfortably tight. Slowly, desperately resisting the urge to just close the gap between them, he started talking. “We were here. Sitting watching the sunrise.” He saw Gerard’s eyes flick over to the horizon for a fraction of a second, over to where the very first hints of sunlight were starting to appear. “And you kissed me.”

“Tongue?”

Frank would have laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing if it wasn’t for the sincerity in Gerard’s voice, and the fact that their thighs were brushing together, faces almost touching. He nodded. “And you pushed me back against the hood. And your hands - _fuck_ , your hands.”

A good few seconds passed where they were just staring at each other, Frank’s cheeks burning, before Gerard’s hand inched across the hood and his fingertips brushed Frank’s hips though his jeans. He tried to suppress the little noise that escaped his mouth, but to no avail. Gerard’s fingers just grazed the bare skin where Frank’s jacket had fallen away and his shirt had ridden up, and despite how cold they were, Frank felt as if heat was spreading through his whole body from the point of contact. He only noticed that he had stopped breathing when Gerard’s fingers pressed against his skin slightly and he let out a small gasp.

“That’s not fair.”

Gerard didn’t say anything, just very slowly slid his hand up to rest against Frank’s hip bone where it jutted out from the top of his jeans.

“Kiss me. Please.” He knew Gerard wouldn’t do it, but it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to close the gap between them himself.

Gerard seemed to come to his senses slightly and withdrew his hand slowly, but didn’t move further away from Frank, so their faces were still inches apart. “You know I can’t.”

“So stop messing me around,” he choked out, breath catching in his throat.

Gerard didn’t say anything. The silence just stretched out between them as the cold, clear sky turned from inky black to a washed out blue. When Gerard got up off the hood wordlessly, Frank instinctively reached out a hand and grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie, keeping him from leaving. Gerard just glanced down at his hand, then up at him with a smile. “I’ll see you soon, Frank.”

* * *

Frank hadn’t been asleep to start off with, so the gentle tapping at his window didn’t wake him up. It did make him jump, though, his head whipping round at the first noise, but he couldn’t see anything outside. Slowly getting to his feet, he hit pause on his CD player and squinted out into the darkness, looking past his own puzzled reflection in the glass, but could only see the branches of the tree in the front yard and the houses across the street. Another sound made him almost leap back from the window. He struggled with the lock for a second before pushing it up and open and staring out into the night.

“Frankie!”  
He looked down, all of the confusion suddenly gone. He recognised that voice.

Gerard was stood in the yard, head tilted back so that he could stare up at Frank’s window and a bunch of little pebbles in his hand, which he’d presumably grabbed from the flowerbed. It was like in some stupid movie, Gerard throwing rocks at his window in the middle of the night, but Frank didn’t care. Gerard was staring up at him, smiling softly, his pale face glowing in the moonlight and his dark hair hanging back off of his face.

“You wanna come in?” Frank stage whispered, grinning.

Gerard nodded, dropping the rest of the pebbles that he’d been holding.

Deciding that now was not the time to consider consequences, Frank jerked his head slightly, and Gerard seemed to get the message. He took a step back, evidently assessing his route up, before doing a little run and jump up onto the ledge on top of the living room window. Frank leaned further out of his window to look down as Gerard clambered up the gutter, eventually grabbing Frank’s outstretched hand and hauling himself up onto the windowsill. Taking a step back, Frank stared at him. _Sneaking him into your room in the middle of the night isn’t very platonic._ He tried to cut off that train of thought before it got into dangerous territory though, because Gerard was looking at him in that way that made his heart jump, the way he’d looked at him on the porch that one night and on the top of the hill the night before, and he just looked so _pretty_ lit from the back by the moonlight that Frank had to remind himself to breathe.

“Any, uh… any specific reason you came?”

Gerard shook his head, his small smile not faltering, and sat down in the chair at Frank’s desk. “Just wanted to see you.”

It hurt Frank to know that he couldn’t just get up, cross the room and kiss Gerard. He couldn’t. The two of them were stuck in limbo, in too deep to go back to the friendship they’d had before any of this, but neither of them willing to risk turning it into what they really wanted it to be. Gerard hadn’t actually said how he felt, not like Frank had, but he didn’t really need to, because there was a kind of mutual understanding. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Frank’s chest felt tight as Gerard’s eyes roved over him, feeling as if Gerard could see right through him, see exactly what he was thinking - not that he really tried to hide it anymore, so Gerard probably _did_ know exactly what was happening in his head.

More for something to do other than stare at Gerard than any actual desire to, he got to his feet and started looking through the DVDs on his shelf, popping open his DVD player. “What d’you wanna watch?”

“You choose.”

He looked over his shoulder. Gerard was still staring at him, and still smiling.

They were half an hour into Scream when Frank gave up trying to make his glances over to Gerard remotely subtle. “For fuck’s sake, come here.”

Gerard looked over form the TV to where Frank was propped up against his headboard. He was still sat in the chair at Frank’s desk, hugging one of his knees up to his chest.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Come on, you’re really gonna come over in the middle of the night and then not even sit next to me?”

Hesitantly, Gerard got to his feet and crossed the room to the bed. Frank tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible as Gerard climbed onto the mattress and shuffled over to him on his knees. They were sat so close together, backs to the headboard an legs splayed out on the comforter, that Frank could feel the tickle of Gerard’s hair against his cheek. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

“You must know how fucking painful it is,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the TV. “ To keep going on like this when you still won’t kiss me.”

Gerard let out a little sigh, shifting his legs so that his thigh wasn’t pressed quite as firmly against Frank’s. There was a painfully long pause, the only sound coming from the television. Gerard hadn’t moved away, though, so their shoulders and legs were still touching.

“I’m playing a show on Tuesday night,” Frank blurted out, more to break the silence than anything else.

“You joined another band?”

He shook his head, glancing up at Gerard’s slightly shocked face. “I’m just filling in. Their guitarist broke his wrist, or something.”

Gerard nodded slowly. “Cool.”

“So… are you gonna come along?”

“What sort of a question is that?” Gerard moved so that one of his legs was bent as the knee and he could turn to face Frank slightly better. “Obviously I’m coming.”

Now that they were facing each other, Frank had the opportunity to properly stare into Gerard’s eyes in the sappy way he spent so much time wanting to do. “You’re hungry.”

“What?”

Frank gestured in a half-aborted move to touch Gerard’s face. “Your eyes. They’re red.”

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d notice that.”

Frank almost said something stupid in response, like pointing out how much time he spent staring at Gerard’s eyes and how it would have been impossible not to notice, but he managed to bite his tongue. Eventually, after breaking the eye contact, he felt that he could trust himself not to say something embarrassing. “We’re on at nine tomorrow. Y’know… the show.”

With a little nod, Gerard moved the tiniest bit so that his thigh was almost resting on top of Frank’s, as if he was very slightly curled up against him. It was a small enough movement that if it had been anyone else, Frank probably wouldn’t have noticed, but he was so hyper aware of every tiny thing that Gerard did, so sensitive to the feeling of their sides pressed together, that it was impossible to miss.

It felt almost _normal_ to Frank, sitting and watching a movie with Gerard tucked up against his side and their shoulders pressed together, as if they were just normal people. As if Gerard wasn’t a vampire and Frank wouldn’t be in so, so much trouble if his mother found out about anything happening inside his head. So he let himself pretend for a while.

* * *

If it hadn’t been for his phone beeping and waking him up, Frank probably would have slept until late in the afternoon. He wasn’t exactly sure what time he’d ended up falling asleep in the end, but he had vague memory of staring to doze off just as the movie had reached its climax, and putting up no protest when Gerard laughed and told him he should get some sleep. He remembered Gerard brushing Frank’s hair back off his face with his cold, slender fingers before disappearing silently out the window.

The menu screen of the movie was still playing when his phone woke him up. Eyes still closed, he rummaged around on his nightstand before he found it and rolled onto his side to read the incoming text from Ray.

_The band r rehearsing 2day. I gave u Bert’s number, he said he’d call or text u the address._

Just as he read it, his phone started to ring, one of the numbers that Ray had given him in the music store flashing up on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, man, it’s Bert. From the Used.”

Rubbing his eyes, Frank sat up in bed, smiling. “Yeah, Ray said you’d call about a rehearsal.”

“Uh-huh. Quinn’ll want to teach you the songs, but it won’t take too long. We’re only playing support, so our set won’t be long anyway.”

Frank scribbled down the address that Bert read him, and was still smiling when they hung up the phone. The excitement of it all, at the prospect of actually playing a show again, was starting to build. It had been months since he’d played guitar for anyone but Ray (or his mother, against her will, because of how loud of was), and he genuinely missed it. Music kind of felt like the only thing he was genuinely good at, so it was so surprise that he’d felt as if he’d sort of been aimlessly drifting in the months since Pencey Prep had broken up. And he knew that this wasn’t the same as being in a band and making his own music again, but it still felt like _something_.

The address Bert had given him was for a little rehearsal studio in the basement of a little cafe in town, windowless and so tucked away that Frank had never even known it was there. Pencey had always just rehearsed in each other’s living rooms and basements, much to the annoyance of the parents that most of them still lived with.

He was greeted at the door by a dude barely taller than him with long, dark hair and a huge grin on his face. “You must be Frank!”

Frank nodded and held out a hand for Bert to shake, but Bert ignored it and just grabbed Frank by the sleeve of his jacket and dragged him inside, still grinning. Bert looked vaguely like an insane asylum escapee when he grinned like that, but something about him made Frank smile back. Guys, this is Frank.”

The others were sat around tuning their instruments and smoking. One of them, with bleach blonde hair and a cast on his wrist, jumped to his feet and reached out to shake Frank’s hand. “What’s up, man? I’m Quinn.”

“The guitarist?”

Quinn nodded and held up his cast. “Fell down the stairs. I kinda wish I at least had a more exciting story behind it.”

The whole time Quinn was talking him through each of the songs, their conversation flowed surprisingly easily; Quinn, it turned out, had seen Pencey Prep live a couple of times back in the summer, so we pretty eager to ask Frank about that, and didn’t push him to keep talking when it was clear he didn’t want to think about the band breaking up too much. And he managed to pick up the songs pretty quickly, so any worries he’d had about the show being so soon were gone after only an hour or so of rehearsing.

He didn’t bother to tell his mom about the show when he got home on Monday night, because he knew she wouldn’t come. She hadn’t come to a single Pencey show, and hadn’t really approved of him being in a band at all, so he’d pretty much gotten used to it by that point. He shut the front door as silently as possible, hearing the TV playing again, because he didn’t really have the energy for another overly tense and suspicion-filled conversation with her.

Tuesday seemed to pass by very quickly (probably helped by the fact that Frank never even woke up before the early afternoon of his own accord anymore), so before he knew it he was luging his guitar into the passenger seat of his car and driving down to one of the few bars in town. The rest of the band, as well as the headliners, were already there. They flew through a soundcheck, Frank already feeling the burning excitement that he hadn’t felt in months, not since his last Pencey Prep show. Quinn was a pretty good sport about not being able to play, joking along with the rest of them when the headline band took turns guessing how he’d broken his wrist, and even managed a laugh when Jepha pointed out that he’d have to get Bert to jerk him off for the next few weeks. The whole thing just made Frank miss being in a band that bit more, miss the stupid jokes and the arguments with the owner of the bar about their pay, and the promises to buy everyone and their mother a beer after their set. Of course, even with all the excitement, the thought of Gerard kept creeping back into his head. Gerard had never seen him play before. Gerard was going to be there, in the audience watching him, probably still in one of his black hoodies and undoubtedly standing awkwardly still, but even so, he was going to be here. And the thought of it just made the excitement bubble up inside him even more.When the lights came up and he walked out onto stage, Quinn patting him on the back as he went, he couldn’t help but grin to himself.

He’d forgotten just what it felt like to be up on stage, well-practiced fingers moving over the strings and frets and just completely throwing himself into it. He half wanted to close his eyes so that he could focus entirely on what he could hear and feel, but the sight of all of those people moving in time to the music and singing up at him was too incredible of a sight to miss. As he stepped up onto one of the amps, hand sliding along the fretboard, he wondered how he ever gave this up.

Before he knew it, there was one song left, and he was desperately trying to catch his breath while Bert talked to the audience. He knelt down next to the amps and pulled the cap off of a bottle of water, chugging half of it before splashing most of the rest over his head. As he got back to his feet, Jepha patted him on the back, grinning, before nodding at Bert and jumping into the final song. Frank squinted out past the stage lights into the crowd, and suddenly felt his hand slip on the guitar. He could finally see Gerard. He was stood stock still, hands at his sides, and staring up at Frank like he’d never seen him before. His mouth was slightly open, tongue poking out to wet his lips as Frank locked eyes with him, trying to focus on hitting the right notes. There was something different in Gerard’s expression, different to the look he had every time Frank caught him staring, or in those moments where they would lock eyes for a little bit too long for it to be entirely friendly. This was something entirely new. It was with a huge effort that Frank finally tore his eyes away from Gerard to glance down at his hands, cheeks burning.

Somehow, he made it to the end of the song without messing up, gaze occasionally moving back to where he knew Gerard was still standing and watching him. Every time their eyes met, Frank felt his heart jump in his throat.

The second Frank handed his guitar to one of the backstage guys, Gerard grabbed him by the arms and dragged him off towards a dark, empty corner.

“Jesus Christ, Frank.” Gerard was staring at him with a similar look to the one he’d been giving him from the audience.

“What?” Frank felt his heart jumping in his throat, and the thrum of his pulse under the tight grip of Gerard’s cold hands around his upper arms. “Gerard, how did you even get back here?”

Instead of answering, Gerard leant forwards, tilting Frank’s head up to one side, and pressed his face into Frank’s neck. Frank gasped in shock, one hand scrabbling to grab a hold of the back of Gerard’s hoodie.

“Fuck, Frankie. You smell so good. You looked so fucking… alive. When you were playing.” His cold hand was gently resting on the side of his neck, thumb skating over his jaw. “I dunno how much longer I can take it. It’s like when you blush and the blood goes to your face and it’s right there and it’s so hard not to do anything.” He swallowed thickly, cold hands still pressed to Frank’s skin. “I’ve never wanted to bite anyone as much as you.”

Frank’s hands were shaking slightly. He didn’t think it was entirely out of fear. “Are you gonna do it?”

As he whispered it, he felt Gerard’s lips against his skin. He wasn’t sure if he was even still breathing; all his attention was focused on the gentle brush of Gerard’s mouth against the side of his neck, the almost painful grip on his arms, the press of Gerard’s chest against his.

Eventually, Gerard leaned forwards so that his forehead was resting on Frank’s shoulder. “No. I can’t.”

Frank gulped, trying to ignore the connotations of the fact that he wasn’t especially scared by the prospect of Gerard sucking his blood. “So kiss me, then.”

“You don’t want that, Frank.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I want.” He pushed Gerard’s chest back slightly, and he raised his head. Frank looked him right in the eye. “I want you to kiss me.”

Gerard’s hand’s slid down Frank’s arms and came to rest on his wrists. “I don’t want to hurt you.” They were so close together that Frank could feel the coolness emanating from Gerard’s skin.

“For fucks sake,” Frank muttered, more to himself, although they were standing so close together that Gerard must have heard. He broke his hands free from Gerard’s restraint and grabbed the sides of his face, standing up on his tiptoes and pressing his mouth to Gerard’s. Gerard gasped, hands flailing around, as Frank dragged him downwards. Frank took no notice - his whole brain had gone into overdrive, half if it still telling him that _this is wrong, this is so, so wrong,_ but the other half, the much louder half by now, was screaming at him to keep going.

Eventually, he broke away, hands dropping to his sides, and gasped for breath. Gerard stayed in the exact position that Frank had left him in, hands awkwardly in the air, looking comically surprised.

“I wanted it before and I want it now. I know you keep saying no because you don’t think it can work, or you’re worried that you’ll hurt me, but I don’t fucking care. I fucking want it, you dickhead.”

Gerard seemed to slowly wake up, and looked down at where Frank was still stood catching his breath. “Are you sure?”

“You think I haven’t been thinking about it for _weeks_? That it hasn’t been ruining my life because my mom is a fucking Catholic and if knew she’d kill me? You really think I haven’t thought this through?”

“It can’t work.”

But Frank could tell from the tone of Gerard’s voice that he was finally starting to get through to him.

“Please.” Frank crowded close to Gerard and threaded a hand into his hair. “Please, can we at least try?” Subconsciously, his free hand came up to press against his crucifix through his shirt. “I’ve been fucking tearing myself apart over this, you have no idea. Please, don’t let it all have been for nothing. Just try.”

Gerard paused, swallowing thickly, before finally nodding.

Frank had been quite looking forward to watching the headline band with Gerard and the guys from the Used, but it suddenly didn’t seem important at all. When Frank offered to drive Gerard home, he said that he didn’t mind walking (and Frank supposed that he could probably cover the distance faster if he ran, what with the super speed and everything), but Frank insisted. He dragged Gerard round the corner to his car after waving goodbye to the band, and clambered into the driver’s seat. Gerard sat hugging one knee to his chest so that his foot rested on the seat. Neither of them said anything, apart from Gerard giving the occasional direction.

The lights were off in Gerard’s house when they pulled up outside. Mikey must have been out. Gerard looked over at Frank, the light from the street lamps reflecting off of his eyes and giving his face a golden glow, and Frank just stared back. He watched as the tip of Gerard’s tongue poked out and ran over his lips, before he pulled the bottom one between his teeth, and then finally spoke. “Sorry for nearly biting you.”

“That’s okay.”

At the exact moment that Frank looked back up to meet Gerard’s eyes, Gerard leant over and kissed him. Frank didn’t hesitate to grab the front of Gerard’s hoodie and pull him in closer so that they were both leaning right out of their seats, their lips moving together. Almost hesitantly, Gerard’s tongue nudged in between Frank’s parted lips, making Frank let out a slightly embarrassing noise. He was almost shocked by how cold even Gerard’s _tongue_ was.

“Fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this,” Gerard muttered into his mouth.

Frank just pulled him even closer, clinging to the front of his hoodie. “Don’t say that. I don’t care.”

Gerard didn’t seem to need much convincing. He was kissing Frank as if they were on a time limit, hands sliding all over his chest and back and his tongue exploring every fraction of Frank’s mouth. Frank supposed that not needing to breathe made it easier to kiss like that. Every second he pulled away to take a breath, he returned his mouth to Gerard’s as soon as he possibly could, never wanting to stop. _This is what you wanted. This is what you dreamed about._ He tried not to grin against Gerard’s mouth, but it was hard. He was giddy with happiness.

Frank wasn’t sure how long they kissed for before he pushed Gerard back against the passenger seat by his shoulder and clambered on top of him, one thigh pressed against the door. Gerard groaned, running a hand up Frank’s side so that his thumb just skirted under Frank’s jacket and shirt, his tongue still moving in Frank’s eager mouth. Frank was just becoming painfully aware of just how tight his jeans were getting when Gerard pulled away, resting his head against the seat. “If we’re not careful, I’m gonna bite you by accident. It’s… overwhelming. Being so close.”

Frank ducked his head to plant a kiss on Gerard’s jaw. “You’re not gonna bite me. I trust you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

Frank shook his head, sucking the skin just at the top of Gerard’s cold, pale neck. Gerard groaned quietly in his ear, one of his hands snaking under the back of Frank’s jacket and up his shirt. Frank gasped at the cold sensation and jerked away from Gerard’s neck, but the sudden movement brought their crotches into direct contact, and they both moaned again.

“Shit.” Frank rolled his hips again, seeking out the friction, and felt Gerard push up against him. “Shit, Gee.”

Gerard pulled Frank back down for another kiss, both of his hands now under Frank’s shirt and running over the warm skin as Frank rocked back and forth against him, moaning into his mouth. Slowly, one of Gerard’s hands slid forwards onto Frank’s stomach, and started to inch downwards. When his palm was resting right over Frank’s cock through his jeans, Frank pulled back slightly, looking down at Gerard through half lidded eyes.

“Do you want me to… or should we- I mean, we don’t have to-”

He had been doing his best to ignore the familiar sick feeling of guilt in his stomach, and it had been mostly overshadowed by pure desperate want, but not completely. “Not yet.”

Kissing was one thing, he supposed, but there was something that felt decidedly wrong about anything else. He knew that was just his brain guilt tripping him, that he didn’t believe in damnation or eternal punishment or going to hell just because of who you wanted to fuck, but everything he’d ever been taught seemed to be telling him otherwise.

Gerard was smiling up at him, hands resting innocently on his jean clad thighs. “Okay. I know this is probably… weird.”

“I just... don’t wanna go too fast."

Gerard nodded and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, right on his lip ring, letting his teeth tug on it gently. “Just say when.”


	7. Chapter 7

_"But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh."_

_(Galatians 5:16)_

Frank had discovered a new appreciation for kissing. All of a sudden he’d found himself making out with Gerard at every possible opportunity - pulled over on some empty street on their nighttime drives, on Gerard’s bed in his basement, behind the counter at 7-Eleven, in dark corners of bars away from intruding eyes while a band played on in the background. He’d never payed much attention to it before; kissing had always sort of just seemed like the first bridge to cross on the way to sex, nothing particularly special in and of itself, but he was starting to see the silver lining in feeling too guilty to do anything more than just kiss Gerard, because he was suddenly forced to appreciate it. And he suddenly felt like he’d been missing out, or maybe Gerard was just a really good kisser, because when he actually focused on it he found himself completely melting under Gerard’s touch and never wanting to pull away.

And Gerard didn’t seem to really mind that they couldn’t do anything more than just kiss, either. On Saturday afternoon, with Frank’s bedroom window open so that he’d hear his mom’s car pulling into the driveway, Gerard seemed content to kiss him for hours on end. They lay tangled up on his bed, the CD Frank had put on starting over from the beginning because they’d been at it for so long, and Frank feel genuinely, truly happy. He didn’t care that he was acting stupid and taking too many risks doing this here, and that as soon as his mom got home they would have to stop and pretend that nothing had happened, because Gerard was doing that thing with his tongue that made his toes curl and a little groan escape his mouth, only to be swallowed up by Gerard’s. One of his hands was next to Frank’s head on the pillow so that he could hold himself up, the other gently moving across his chest and down his side, never dipping below the waistband of his jeans. Frank had one ankle hooked around Gerard’s leg, holding him in place. Just as Frank moved one of his hands to tangle in Gerard’s hair, he heard a car door slam.

“Mom’s home,” he mumbled against Gerard’s mouth. And as much as he desperately wanted to keep going, he turned his head slightly so that the kiss was broken. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, Gerard rolled onto the bed next to Frank and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, just at the corner of his mouth.

“I can sneak out the window if that’s better,” Gerard said, tucking his hair back behind his ears.

Frank shook his head. “I don’t mind if she sees you. She can’t prove anything, she’s just suspicious.”

When Gerard got to his feet and told Frank that he should probably get home, Frank couldn’t help but pull him back down to press their lips together again, even though he knew it was stupid given the risk of his mom coming upstairs. When they finally broke apart, standing just by Frank’s closed bedroom door, Gerard slipped his hands into the back pockets of Frank’s jeans and grinned at him. “It’s your birthday tomorrow.”  
Frank looked up at him, puzzled. “Yeah, I know that. How do _you_ know that?”

“You told me when you were telling me about your tattoos. Ages ago.”  
Frank had a vague memory of the conversation, but he was definitely high when it had happened, and it had been over a month ago. The realisation that Gerard remembered made his chest flutter. “You remembered.”

After worrying his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, Gerard pressed a quick kiss to Frank’s mouth. “‘Course I remembered."

Frank’s mother gave him an unreadable look when the two of them traipsed through the kitchen to the front door, making sure not to stand too close together for fear of making her more suspicious. She watched them closely as they said their goodbyes, but just as she turned her back, Gerard mouthed, “I’ll see you later”, and gave him a small wink.

And they did indeed see each other later, because Gerard came through 7-Eleven’s glass door a good thirty minutes earlier than before, as if he’d just given up on trying to be subtle about gradually increasing the amount of time he spent there each week. They made out against the counter for an embarrassingly long time, pausing occasionally to have one of their usual stupid conversations about nothing in particular, and when the digital clock on the register hit midnight, Gerard leaned forwards to whisper “happy birthday” in Frank’s ear.

But they were forced to stop when the door squeaked against the linoleum floor as it opened and a couple of people walked in. Gerard instantly jumped backwards from where he had been pressing Frank against the edge of the counter and turned to look at the cigarettes on the back shelves, while Frank spun around and put on his best customer service smile. The two guys spoke to each other quietly as they wandered around the shop before dropping a bunch of bags of chips and bottles of soda on the counter ( _road trip snacks_ , Frank thought). And they both must have been short as fuck, because it wasn’t often that Frank sound himself at eye level with people.

The second the door closed behind them, Gerard let out a snort of laughter and turned back around. Frank let out a slow breath and grinned. “We’re gonna get properly caught if we’re not careful.”  
Gerard raised his hands in mock innocence. “Not my fault you demand constant making out.”

Instead of thinking of a snarky response, Frank just kissed the stupid smile off of Gerard’s face.

But Gerard’s statement may have proved somewhat true, because they spent a long while kissing on the hood of Frank’s car on top of the hill, and the whole time Frank was thinking about how it was exactly like in his dream, how he’d spent weeks and weeks wanting it to be exactly like that, and it finally was.

They finally stopped when the sky had started getting considerably lighter, the sun almost peeking over the horizon. As they lit up their cigarettes, Frank thought about how strange it was that he was pretty much nocturnal on weekends now; the sun wasn’t rising until pretty late by that time of year, but he had no problem staying awake. Or maybe he just never got tired of Gerard.

“So,” said Gerard after a long, peaceful silence. “It’s Halloween. And your birthday.”

“Oh, God, you’re not gonna tell me some weird vampire shit happens on Halloween, are you?”

Gerard chuckled, tapping the ash off of his cigarette. “No, don’t worry. As far as I know Halloween isn’t actually anything to do with the undead, or whatever.” He paused to take a drag on his cigarette, then put his free hand back into his hoodie pocket. “No, I just wanted to… well, I got you something.”

Frank raised his eyebrows, feeling himself blush. “Gerard, you didn’t have to-”

“I know. But I wanted to.” He rummaged in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a little slip of paper and handing it to him. He squinted down at it in the semi-darkness.

“It’s… it’s a note from the tattoo place in town. They’ll do anything under ninety bucks for you.”  
Frank grinned and looked back up at him. “You’re paying for my next tattoo?”

“Make it a good one,” he said, nodding.

Cigarette completely forgotten in his hand, Frank leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Gerard’s cold cheek, pulling him forwards into a hug. “Thank you.”

“Wait, I have something else.”

Frank had pulled away and was looking back down at the little note when Gerard pulled a slightly battered pack of Marlboro Reds out of his hoodie pocket. “There’s three in there. It’s the next pack I bought after you gave me your’s. So I thought I should return the favour.”

“You…” Frank took the little box slowly and flipped the top open. “You saved them? It’s been nearly two months since I gave you mine.”

Gerard gave him a small shrug and a smile. “Just in case.”

Frank couldn’t help but kiss him then, even though his lips were slightly chapped from so much making out, because _Gerard had kept them all this time, just in case_.

* * *

A part of Frank almost expected his mom to let him off going to church on his birthday, but once again he was woken up by a knocking at his door only a couple of hours after he’d finally gotten home and passed out in bed. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the battered pack of Marlboros on his nightstand, slightly crumpled and faded with age, and he smiled.

His smile had faded slightly by the time he was sat in the car on the way to church, but the brand new cellphone that his mom had given him was keeping his spirits up. He had half expected her to not bother getting him anything for his birthday, given the fact that he was living in her house and eating her food every day, but she had greeted him in the kitchen with a stiff smile and a little box with a ribbon on it and even given him a rather awkward hug. But they still sat in dead silence for the whole car drive, just as they did every week. 

_Some way to spend your 20th birthday._

Church was no better than it ever was. In fact, Frank thought it was probably getting even worse every time, because he just felt like everyone _knew_. He could feel his mother staring at him for the entire service again, as if her accusatory, suspicious eyes were burning into him. And, of course, the whole time he was just dreading confession. Actually admitting to it all even if he knew Father Davis couldn’t tell anyone what was said. And it was just as horrible aa he’d expected, sitting in the little wooden confessional and telling the Father that he’d spent a good part of the past week kissing a boy, and the remaining part of it thinking about doing much more than kissing. The whole time, his mind was just jumping back and forth between trying to reassure himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong and reminding him how none of it could ever end well, because at some point he was going to get caught by people who _did_ think he was doing something wrong.

Confession was always hard, but it got so much worse every single time.

As usual, his mother sat in a pew outside the confessional and waited for him before wordlessly getting to her feet and making for the door. Frank trailed along behind her rather miserably, hands fisted in his pockets, until he spotted Ray and his parents making small talk in the parking lot.

They stood a little way away from where their parents were chatting, tempted to sneak a cigarette but not wanting to risk getting caught.

“The guys are coming over tonight,” said Ray. “A Halloween party sort of thing. You should come, we’ll sing you happy birthday.”

Frank smiled. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“And I can’t bake cakes for shit, but I’ll stick a candle in a Poptart if you want.”

Frank nodded. He liked that Ray never asked about his mom, never pried, because he knew Frank would bring t up himself if he wanted to talk about it. And Ray hadn’t brought up what frank had said about liking boys either, which he appreciated. Not to mention that wanted nothing more than to spend his birthday getting blackout drunk and forgetting about all of it for a little while.

Frank thought that calling the events at Ray’s house a party was probably a bit of a stretch; more just a bunch of people sat around using Halloween as an excuse to drink and listen to music much too loud. Frank got there as early as he could without it being rude, armed with a case of beer and not really wanting to be in the house with his mom for any longer than he already had to. Sundays were by far his least favourite day of the week by then, because even once he got home from church every week he’d spend the whole day avoiding the looks his mom was giving him, trying to act as innocent as possible. She hadn’t protested when he told her he was going out that night, but he could tell that she wasn’t happy about it form the way she checked her watch and looked him up and down before he left.

He managed to distract himself for a little while by downing a fair few beers with the guys and laughing along when Ray did indeed bring out a Poptart with a single birthday candle stuck in the top, and did his best to act normal for a little while.

It was when he was stood just outside Ray’s back door, just the two of them each smoking a cigarette and tipsy enough to not really be thinking before they spoke, that Frank made the decision to drop the pretence.

“I like boys.”

Ray looked up at him, mouth slightly open, then seemed to hurriedly rearrange his face into a kind smile. “Okay.”

“And girls,” he added, taking a swig of his beer.

Ray just nodded, still smiling. “And… and you’re okay?”

He hesitated. _He_ was okay with it, he supposed; it was more of a matter of everyone around him. “Yeah. I am. Can’t imagine my mom would be, though.”

He was staring down at the ground when he felt a hand on his shoulder and Ray pulled him into a hug, his arms around Frank’s shoulders. “She loves you. And you’ve got us.”

The sound of Ray’s heart beating in his chest, and the warmth of his body pressed to Frank’s, felt strange in contrast to the cool silence that he was used to with Gerard, but it was nice. There was something about Ray that just made him feel safe, at home.

“Church is horrible,” he saidinto Ray’s t shirt.

Ray hugged him tighter, his chin resting on Frank’s head. “Don’t worry about what they tell you. I know that’s easier said than done, but… you haven’t done anything wrong.”

He nodded.

Telling Ray did make him feel better, in a weird way, because it felt like he had someone else on his side, but he still couldn’t get the memory of church that morning out of his head. Every week it got worse and worse, and every week his mother caught on a little bit more, and he was terrified even though he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was terrified of what his mom would do if she found out for real, or what would happen at church if they caught on somehow.

He told Ray he was going to the bathroom, but headed straight into the kitchen. He was still much too sober, but he was drunk enough that he didn’t bother considering the moral problems with digging through Ray’s house for more alcohol. He just wanted to forget about things for a little while.

He was probably making much too much noise as he rummaged through the cabinets, but the others were being pretty loud in the other room, so he thought he’d probably go unnoticed. There was a bottle of gin tucked behind some fancy glassware in one of the cupboards, still mostly full if a little dusty looking. It burned his throat as he took a big gulp of it, but he relished the warmth spreading through his body from the first swallow. He could hear the guys in the next room, talking and listening to music and doing God knows what, but he didn’t want to join them. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, drank too much of the gin in a matter of minutes and stared at his reflection in the window, and by the time he wandered out into the hallway, his head was swimming from the alcohol, but he didn’t feel any better about… any of it.

* * *

If Gerard’s room hadn’t been in the basement, and if Frank hadn’t been worried that he was a bit too drunk to have very good aim, he’d have thrown rocks against Gerard’s window just like Gerard had done, just like in some stupid movie. He didn’t, though. He just stood a few feet down the front path, shivering, and passing the bottle from hand to hand. “Gerard? Are you there?”

A perk of Gerard being a vampire, he supposed, was that because of his superhuman hearing, he didn’t have to speak particularly loud to be heard. After calling his name a couple of times, the front door opened. Gerard was wearing a paint splattered Iron Maiden shirt, hair sticking up as if he’d been running his hands through it. “Frank?”

“Hey.” Frank only then realised that he wasn’t completely sure what he actually came to say. He’d just wanted to see Gerard.

“Are you drunk?” Gerard opened the door all of the way and stepped out onto the porch.

As he swayed on his feet, Frank could hear the TV playing from inside the house. He shrugged. “A little.”  
“Aren’t you freezing?”  
Frank looked down, almost having forgotten that he was dressed only in a t shirt and had walked all the way here. As soon as Gerard reminded him of it, though, he felt the Autumn chill in full force, and shivered, nodding.

Gerard was looking him up and down, eyes wide. God, he must look pathetic.

“Okay, wait here. I’ll be right back.” He vanished back into the house, leaving the door open, before reappearing mere seconds later with a sweater.

“That was fast.” Frank stumbled over the words slightly.

Gerard walked down the path to him, chuckling. “Superspeed.”

Frank had to put the gin bottle down in order to let Gerard tug the sweater over his head, balancing it precariously at his feet. Once he was suitably drowning in the much too large sweater, Gerard stepped back, still staring at him. “Are you ok, Frank? Did you walk here?”

“Mhm. From Ray’s. Told him I liked boys. And I just wanted to… wanted to see you. And talk to you,” He hiccuped.

Gerard shook his head. “You’re stupid, Frank.” He took his hand carefully. “Do you wanna come in? Get out of the cold?”

Frank shook his head. “Can’t. Can’t come in without an invitation.”

“That’s me, you idiot. And I am inviting you in."

“Need to be home in the morning. Mom.” He’d closed his eyes, head tilted backwards and still holding Gerard’s hand.

“Ok, well,” Gerard paused, presumably trying to think of what to do with him. Frank couldn’t think of anything, either. “What did you wanna talk to me about?”

Frank opened his eyes slowly, then stumbled forwards so that his head was resting against Gerard’s chest. “I went to church today.”

Gerard didn’t say anything. That was understandable, Frank thought. There wasn’t really any good response to that. He continued, hiccuping again. “Mom makes me go to church. They all probably hate me there.”

“Frank, no one hates you.”

“God must hate me. He made me gay, or bi, or whatever, and made my mom Catholic. He sent me to fucking Catholic school. And he made you a vampire.” Without warning, he bent over and threw up.

One of Gerard’s hands rested in his hair. “You ok?”

Frank’s head was swimming. He closed his eyes, tight, then opened them again. “God hates me."

“God doesn’t hate you. I promise.” He pulled Frank upright again, holding onto his shoulders. Ignoring the fact that Frank had probably gotten puke down the front of his sweater, Gerard pulled him into a hug.

Frank pressed his face into Gerard’s shirt. “You don’t fucking get it. _I_ know I’m not doing anything wrong, but everyone else thinks I am.”

One of Gerard’s hands stroked gently through Frank’s hair. “You’re right, I don’t get it.”

Frank wasn’t sure if trying to put it into words would make him feel better or worse, so opted to just stay there, his head on Gerard’s chest and his hands gripping the front of Gerard’s shirt.

“It’d be bad enough even if you weren’t…” he finally managed.

Gerard seemed to get that, at least. “Because I’m a boy.”

“Because you’re a boy.” Frank closed his eyes, turning so his forehead was pressed against the damp fabric of Gerard’s shirt. He must have started crying, then. He hadn’t noticed. “And on top of that you’re a fucking vampire.” He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “I don’t even know what the deal is with vampires and the church and all that, but I imagine they’re not your biggest fans,” he slurred, brain still feeling foggy.

“Do you want me to explain it to you?”

Frank looked up at him, thinking. “I… okay.”

Gerard ducked his head and softly pressed a kiss just behind Frank’s ear before he started talking. It made Frank shiver.

“We’re demons. Essentially. So anything holy and pure and good hurts us. Holy water, churches, crucifixes, even just crosses. It used to be that hunting vampires was a job for the church - y’know, in the same way priests would perform exorcisms. But as we moved more underground, there wasn’t really the same need for that kind of vampire hunting.

“Regardless of what we do, whether we kill anyone or do anything wrong, we’re damned to hell. Lots of vampires just take that to mean that they can do whatever they want, because it’s not gonna make a difference. I mean, if I’m apparently going to hell anyway, it shouldn’t really matter. But… I don’t know, I feel like you should be a good person for the sake of being a good person, not just so you can get to heaven. If you’re only good so that you can go to heaven, you’re doing selfless things for a selfish reason.” His hand slowly resumed its stroking of Frank’s hair. “So, yeah. I’m going to hell.”

“Stop saying that.” Frank muttered.

“Saying what?”

"That you’re going to hell.” He pulled away, sniffing. “I don’t believe in hell.”

“Aren’t Catholics pretty big on that? And aren’t you a Catholic?” Gerard’s hand still rested on the back of Frank’s neck as they stood facing each other.

“No.” Frank suddenly raised his eyebrows, shocked that he’d even said that. He’d never even fully admitted that to himself, still caught up in everything he’d been raised to think. “I don’t wanna be Catholic if they send people to hell when they haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I have, though.” Gerard’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I’ve hurt people, even if I’ve never killed anyone. That’s bad enough.”

“You’re not a bad person, though.” Now that he’d gotten going, Frank felt as if he’d opened the floodgates to everything he’d been thinking for years, everything he’d been trying to convince himself of for the past few weeks, ever since that dream. And he did believe it. “Neither of us are bad people. And if that’s what they want me to think, then I don’t want anything to do with them.”

Gerard was gazing at him with an expression somewhere between confusion and wonder. Eventually, he let out a small laugh. “I would kiss you right now, but you just puked up half a bottle of gin.”

Frank leaned forwards again and rested his head against Gerard’s chest. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“So don’t. Just stay here. You’re nineteen, she can’t do anything.”

A feeling of slight calm washed over to him, and he nodded into the front of Gerard’s t shirt.

“Happy birthday, Frankie.”

* * *

When he first woke up in the morning, spread out under a blanket on the Ways’ couch, Frank didn’t have a single memory of how he’d gotten there. The living room curtains were drawn, but he could see the faint glow of sunlight through them. He rubbed his eyes, wincing as the pain in his head hit him, and slowly sat up. As he leant back against the arm of the sofa, the memories slowly started coming back to him. He’d stolen that bottle of gin and drank half of it in about five minutes, before finishing it as he walked all the way across town to Gerard’s house. He’d thrown up in the front yard. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten onto the sofa, though. As he rummaged in his pocket for his phone, Gerard emerged from the basement holding a pile of laundry.

“You’re awake!”

Frank nodded, stretching. Gerard chucked the laundry onto the couch at Frank’s feet. “You want some water?”

“Yeah. I feel like shit.”

Gerard let out a short laugh. “That’s hardly surprising.”

Frank tilted his head back against the arm, watching as Gerard walked into the kitchen and filled up a glass of water for him, before coming back and handing it to him. He drank most of it at once, sighing at the relief it gave his parched mouth. His head was still spinning, though. When he placed the empty glass on the ground next to the couch, he noticed that Gerard was staring at him.

“Thanks for looking after me. And letting me stay over.”

“Don’t mention it.” Gerard looked away, bottom lip between his teeth. “I thought you’d probably prefer to sleep up here.”

Frank hesitated slightly, then took Gerard’s wrist and pulled him in to kiss him. “I could have slept downstairs.”

Gerard rested one hand on the side of Frank’s face, the other on the couch next to him. He was kneeling on the floor so that their faces were level. “I didn’t want you to think I’d do anything.”

“I trust you, Gerard.”

Gerard nodded, before tilting Frank’s face towards him and closing the gap between them again. As their lips moved against one another, Frank shifted so that his torso was properly facing Gerard and rested his hands on the back of Gerard’s neck. Just as he let Gerard push his lips apart slightly with his cold tongue, someone cleared their throat. They sprung apart, opening their eyes to see Mikey stood in the doorway.

“Why do you always come in at the worst moments?” Gerard turned so that he was sitting with his back against the couch, a hand now on Frank’s shoulder.

“Why do you feel the need to make out here when you have the whole basement?” Mikey folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. Frank was avoiding his gaze, going back to searching his pockets for his phone.

“Okay, we’re sorry! But it’s not as if you’re one to talk, considering the number of people you’ve-”

Mikey cut Gerard off, unfolding his arms. “That’s different, at least they stay in my room!”  
Frank wondered if they could see him blushing.

“Whatever, we’re leaving now anyway!” Gerard grabbed Frank’s hand and pulled him up onto his feet with little warning, Frank swayed on the spot, another wave of dizziness hitting him, and clung onto Gerard’s shoulder with his free hand.

Mikey looked him up and down. “You good, Frank?”

“Yeah, I’m just hungover.”

He let Gerard pull him down the stairs and into the basement and sit him down on the bed, before he let out a chuckle.

“What?”  
“Mikey hates me.”  
“He doesn’t _hate_ you,” Gerard said, rummaging through his wardrobe. “He’s probably just still mad that you know about us.” He held out a hoodie to Frank.

Frank stared at it.

“You puked on the one I gave you last night.”

Frank looked down. He was wearing just a t shirt, and, now that he thought about it, he was pretty cold. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He pulled the hoodie on, hoping that Gerard wouldn’t notice the way he inhaled as it went over his head. It smelled of Gerard - cool and clean and metallic, like winter, cut through with the smell of cigarette smoke.

Gerard was still stood on the other side of the room, hands behind his back. “Are you ok, Frankie?”

He nodded. “I just don’t know if I wanna go to church anymore.” Gerard’s small smile made him feel all warm inside. He took his hands out of the pockets of the hoodie and held them out. “Come here.”  
Gerard crossed the room and bent to kiss him, tilting Frank’s head up with a hand on his neck. He groaned as Gerard nudged him backwards and sat down between his thighs, their tongues colliding as Frank’s hand came up to tangle in Gerard’s hair.

They made out like that for a while, one of Gerard’s hands resting just under the bottom of the hoodie against Frank’s skin, until Frank grinned and pulled Gerard properly on top of him. Gerard let out a little squeak as he caught his balance with a hand next to Frank’s head, and pulled back slightly.

“You ok?” Frank opened his eyes, feeling Gerard’s nose brush his.

“Mhm.” Gerard smiled and planted a kiss on Frank’s jaw.

As he started kissing all along Frank’s neck, eliciting little gasps from his mouth, Frank slowly inched a hand down Gerard’s chest, his mind racing. “Hey, Gerard?”

“Hm?” Gerard didn’t take his mouth away from where he was running his lips over the skin just below Frank’s ear.

He swallowed, then slowly moved his hand over Gerard’s crotch.

Gerard’s lips stilled. “You wanna?”

“Yeah,” Frank breathed out.

Gerard pulled away from Frank’s neck and looked up at him, hand still resting on his waist. “You sure?”  
Frank nodded. “Not everything. Not all the way. But… yeah.”

“Okay.”

When Gerard’s hand met his dick through his jeans, he moaned. He’d hardly noticed how hard he’d gotten, so focused on Gerard’s lips on his neck, but now that Gerard’s hand was pushing the hoodie up to get to his belt, he couldn’t focus on anything else. Gerard ducked his head back down to kiss Frank again, and Frank opened his mouth instantly to let Gerard’s tongue in.

“I wanna see you.” Frank slid a hand under the bottom of Gerard’s shirt, feeling the soft, cold skin of his hip and waist. Gerard nodded, sitting back slightly so that the kiss was broken, before hesitantly reaching down and pulling his shirt over his head. Frank stared at him. He was pale all over, just as Frank had expected, and had a softness around his middle that Frank wanted to grab and hold onto. There was a faint red line where his jeans must have dug in before Frank had tugged them down slightly.

“You’re so pretty.”

Gerard chuckled, sitting on Frank’s thighs. As he leant back down to kiss him again, their crotches met and they both groaned, Frank snaking a hand between them to undo the button of Gerard’s jeans.

“I wanna see _you_. Wanna see your tattoos,” Gerard said into his mouth.

Frank let Gerard push both his hoodie and t shirt up, exposing his stomach, but he stopped as Frank made to tug them over his head.

“What?”

“Your necklace.”

“Oh.” Frank instinctively placed a hand over it protectively.

“It’s ok, just… keep your shirt on. Then it doesn’t hurt me.”

But Frank shook his head. “No, no, I’ll take it off.”

Gerard looked slightly shocked. “Really?”

Frank hadn’t taken his necklace off, not even once, since he’d gotten it when he was twelve. It felt almost like a part of him, a constant reminder of what he believed. _What you’re supposed to believe,_ his brain supplied. He curled his fingers around the silver crucifix. “Yeah. I wanna take it off.”

Gerard leaned down to peck him on the lips. “Okay.”

Keeping the crucifix held tightly in his fist, he used his other hand to unclip the fastening at the back of his neck, and let the necklace slip off. He leaned off of the bed briefly and tucked it under Gerard’s discarded t shirt so that it was hidden from view. It felt odd not to have the warm metal resting against his skin, but somehow, it felt like if there was ever a time to do it, it was now. Gerard had turned to face the wall, his eyes closed, but Frank rested a hand on his shoulder and turned him back around. “It’s off.”

When Gerard kissed him again, he let his teeth tug on Frank’s lip ring slightly, which made him moan. “You wanna see my tattoos?” He muttered against Gerard’s mouth.

“Fuck yeah.”

Once he’d tugged Frank’s hoodie and shirt over his head and chucked them onto the floor, he sat back again, hands resting on Frank’s chest, and stared at him. “Jesus Christ, Frankie.”

“What?”

Gerard thumb skimmed over the flame tattooed over his heart, the other hand moving to trace the swallows on his hips. He finally looked back up and met Frank’s gaze. “Can I give you a blowjob?”

Frank felt as if his stomach had flipped over. He didn’t think he’d ever gone from half hard to fully hard that fast. “Y-yeah. Please.”

The little kisses he pressed down Frank’s neck and chest made him whine, back arching up off the bed slightly as Gerard’s free hand fumbled with his zipper. He sighed, rocking his hips up in a desperate search for friction against his aching cock, but Gerard kept a hand planted firmly on his hip, holding him in place. Finally, he tugged Frank’s jeans down, followed by his underwear. Frank’s mind went into overdrive; after this, there was no going back, no pretending none of this meant anything and he’d done nothing wrong, no pretending he didn’t feel anything he wasn’t supposed to.

Gerard had paused, clearly seeing the look on Frank’s face. “You sure about this?”

He closed his eyes for a second, running a hand through Gerard’s hair and feeling his thumb gently brush over his hipbone. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Gerard very slowly wrapped his hand around Frank’s cock and started stroking it. He tried to hold back any noise, but couldn’t help but moan as Gerard’s thumb moved over the head as he kissed just below Frank’s bellybutton, in between the two birds. As he kissed down the fine trail of hair on Frank’s stomach, Frank heard him mutter, “vampires don’t have a gag reflex.” Instinctively his hips jerked up into Gerard’s hand, out of his control, and Gerard chuckled. “I’m serious.”

Frank nodded, eyebrows raised, but the smile was wiped off his face the second Gerard placed his lips over the head of his cock. He tilted his head back, a low groan in throat. He’d had blowjobs before, of course, from girls, but this was different. Gerard’s mouth was cool and wet in the way the girls’ had always been warm, and he wasn’t making any of those silly noises that girls made. And it was _Gerard_. It was Gerard looking up at him through those big, round eyes as he sunk all the way down, taking Frank right to the back of his throat, and it was Gerard’s hands gripping onto his hips. It was Gerard’s hair that Frank’s hand was gripping onto, and Gerard’s pillows under his head. Nothing about it felt wrong at all.

Even aside form his lack of a gag reflex, Gerard was shockingly good at what he was doing. His tongue moved in just the right way, running over the slit every time he pulled off slightly, and making Frank keen. He took Frank right to the back of his throat, moaning softly and sending little vibrations up Frank’s whole body, and without thinking he’d tangled a hand not Gerard’s hair, not pulling, but just holding him. He had been so achingly hard when Gerard started that it didn’t take long for Frank to be panting, back arching off of the mattress as he teetered on the edge of coming. Gerard had taken his hand off of Frank’s hip, letting him buck freely into his mouth, and Frank wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Just as he was about to pull Gerard off him, Gerard sat back and grinned up at him. “You close?”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t think he was really capable of words just then. Gerard’s hand was moving up and down his length, the movement slicked by his spit, and he moved back up to plant a kiss on Frank’s flame tattoo.

“Fuck, Gee, I’m gonna-”

“Yeah? You gonna come?”

Frank whined, hearing how wrecked Gerard’s voice sounded as he kissed up towards Frank’s throat. His hips bucked uncontrollably into Gerard’s hand, his own hand gripping onto Gerard’s other arm. With a cry that he gave up on muffling, he came all over Gerard’s fingers, writhing around on the bedsheets and squeezing his eyes shut. He felt the white hot pleasure coursing through him as Gerard continued to stroke him through it, mouth pressed to his collarbone. When he finally opened his eyes, gasping for breath, Gerard was wrestling with his own jeans, tugging on the zipper.

“Let me.” He tugged Gerard forwards so that he was straddling Frank’s stomach and pulled his jeans and underwear down in one. He tried not to gasp when he got a hand around Gerard’s cock. Obviously, Frank had seen other guys naked before, but this was different. He never thought he’d call a dick _attractive_ , but Gerard’s certainly was - it was definitely big, but not ridiculously so, pale like the rest of him and rock hard. He stared at it, hand moving up and down, and listened to the little noises that Gerard was making as he jerked him off.

“Shit, Frankie.” He pressed a hand to Frank’s chest and kissed him hard, teeth tugging on his bottom lip as he panted and gasped into Frank’s mouth (which he thought was slightly ridiculous, considering Gerard didn’t need to breathe), and Frank started moving his hand faster, occasionally running a finger over the head. He stopped for a second, making Gerard whine into his mouth, and pulled away from the kiss briefly to lick his hand, wrist to fingertips. When he returned his slick hand to Gerard’s cock, he moaned again, resting his head on Frank’s shoulder and turning so he could nip at his ear. It only took a few more flicks of his wrist before Gerard came all over both of their stomachs, nails digging into Frank’s chest.

When he rolled to one side so that they were lying next to each other, Frank turned his head and kissed him gently. Gerard still seemed to be recovering from his orgasm, so just smiled lazily over at him through half lidded eyes.

It was only as Frank wiped his hand clean on the sheets that it hit him that he’d just actually jerked off another guy. But he was more shocked by the fact that he didn’t actually feel that guilty. Gerard was tracing small circles on Frank’s chest with a finger. “Good?”

“Good.” Frank cupped his jaw gently and kissed the corner of his mouth, feeling Gerard’s tongue run over his lip ring, and sighed contentedly.

“Well, they do say an orgasm is the best cure for a hangover.”

“Who the fuck says that?” Frank laughed, pushing Gerard’s hair back off of his face.

Gerard shrugged. “Me, I guess."

Still smiling, Frank leaned in and kissed him.

After a few minutes of lazy making out, Frank pushed himself up and started tugging his jeans back on. “We’re all gross.”

Gerard shrugged, grabbing a corner of his bedsheet and reaching up to wipe both his own and Frank’s come off of both of their stomachs.

“Okay, now your sheets are gross.” Frank grinned, sitting back down with his back against the headboard.

“I’ll change them later,” Gerard muttered, sitting up and resting his head on Frank’s shoulder.

“No you won’t.” Frank smiled, tilting his head to rest it on top of Gerard’s and closing his eyes. He felt genuinely happy, genuinely content, more so than he had done in a while. It felt like he’d worked out what was right, instead of listening to what he was just supposed to think was right.


	8. Chapter 8

_“For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”_

_(Romans 6:23)_

Even a few weeks after he’d spent that first night there, Frank was shocked by how quickly he got used to hanging out at the Ways’ house. Because Gerard couldn’t go out during the day, and because even a few hours apart turned Frank into a lovesick teenage girl, he’d started spending every free moment there, and it just felt so _normal_ to sit down on the couch to watch a movie, or to eat a pizza in the kitchen while Gerard watched with a small smile on his face, or to wake up in Gerard’s bed with their fingers intertwined. Even Mikey’s rather cold dismissiveness of him felt wonderfully familiar and comfortable by then. And Gerard was definitely a cuddler, so the two of them would spend hours curled up together, blissfully ignoring the world around them. And there was the added bonus of the fact that it had been a while since Frank had been in a situation where blowjobs had been so readily available, so he couldn’t really be blamed for making the absolute most of it at every opportunity.

And as he bathed in the afterglow of one such blowjob one afternoon, he sat contentedly at the kitchen table and watched Gerard rummage around in the drawers for a Chinese takeout menu from back when he used to eat real food. Eventually he dug a little flyer out of the back of a drawer, brushed the dust off, squinted down at it, then chucked it across the room to Frank. And as he called up his order, Gerard seemed to act almost instinctively as if he’d forgotten that Frank was there, opening the fridge and taking out one of those clear blood bags and placing it on the counter. Frank stared at him, trying to stop his voice from faltering over the phone, as he grabbed a coffee mug off of the shelf. When Frank hung up the phone, Gerard glanced up at him, did a double take and gasped. “Shit, sorry, Frank, this must be weird. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“No, no, go ahead. I’m not freaked out.” But he could tell that he’d probably gone very pale, watching Gerard pour the blood into the mug and putting it in the microwave. When Gerard crossed the room slowly and tucked his hands into the back pockets of Frank’s jeans, Frank made an effort to rearrange his face into one of calm collectedness. “Sometimes I forget that you drink blood.”

Gerard leaned forwards and rested his forehead in the crook of Frank’s neck. “You don’t notice that I’m always cold?”  
“oh, no, I definitely notice that.”  
With a laugh, Gerard pulled him slightly closer and pressed his cold lips just underneath Frank’s jaw as if to prove how cold he was. They stayed like that for a while, arms around each other and the takeout menu abandoned on the table.

The moment was ruined slightly by the microwave making a little ding noise, so Gerard walked over, took out his mug and dipped a finger in it to feel the temperature. It came out dripping red.

Frank couldn’t draw his eyes away from Gerard’s mouth as he sat down at the table and took a sip from the mug as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “You… you microwave it?”

“It stays fresh longer if we keep it in the fridge, but I don’t really like it cold. Mikey does, though, so I guess it’s just personal preference.”

It was so strange to have such a casual conversation about the fact that Gerard _drank blood,_ and he was just sat there drinking it from a mug as if it was the most normal thing in the world while Frank watched, transfixed.When he placed the mug down on the table and licked his lips, his mouth was stained a dark red. Frank’s mind was filled, not for the first time, with thoughts of Gerard stood in a dark alley somewhere with blood running down his chin, a shadowy figure abandoned on the round next to him.

“So… it’s easy to bite people without killing them?”

Gerard nodded. “Yeah, provided you don’t drain too much blood. But it would be pretty hard to accidentally kill someone.”

Trying to keep his face innocently curious, Frank leaned forwards so that his chin rested in his palm. “But surely even if they don’t remember being bitten, they’ll see the bite marks afterwards, so is that not a dead giveaway?”

“No, basically,” said Gerard, then paused to take a sip from his mug. Frank watched closely as the blood stained his lips a dark red when he continued talking. “Vampires have venom, or something, in our spit, and it makes the wounds heal much faster. Sort of like how if I cut myself it would heal super quick. And we’re pretty sure that the venom has some kind of sedative or pain relief in it too.”

Frank was definitely a little too interested in the conversation by then. He’d never thought too much about the fact that Gerard actually bit people, but now couldn’t help but picture Gerard tilting some faceless girl’s chin upwards and sinking his fangs into her neck, warm blood dripping down onto her shoulder. But when he glanced back up, Gerard was just looking at him innocently, his pale fingers wrapped around his mug and the sleeves of his hoodie pulled down over his hands slightly.

“And… the fangs?” He said finally.

“Retractable, like cats’ claws. They only come out when we’re about to bite, so they’re not noticeable. Same as how our eyes go red when we’re hungry.”

Frank’s train of thought was definitely verging into dangerous boner-inducing territory by then, but luckily Mikey walked into the kitchen with a sour look on his face and one of those fast food drinks cups with a straw in his hand.

“What’s up with you?” Gerard asked, gulping down the rest of the blood.

Mikey narrowed his eyes, reaching for the half empty blood bag that Gerard had left on the side. “I can hear everything. When you’re in the basement.”

“What do you- oh.” Gerard turned to look at Frank, who felt his cheeks burn.

“Yeah. I’d appreciate some volume control. Or a warning next time, so I can leave the house,” he said, emptying the blood into his cup.

“Right.” Gerard looked down at his feet shiftily. “Sorry about that, Mikes."

“Yeah, you should be.” He gave them both another disdainful look before slouching off to the living room.

Frank and Gerard looked at each other, deadpan, before Frank cracked and started giggling. Gerard’s face broke into a grin as he made a shushing motion.

The memory of that conversation barely left Frank’s mind for the entirety of the next week or so, and the thought of Gerard drinking blood (more specifically _his_ blood) sent shivers up his spine. He wasn’t entirely sure that it was purely out of fear, though.

He really shouldn’t have been thinking about it at the dinner table with his mother opposite him, or when Ray was trying to explain something about guitars to him, or when Brian was telling him off for forgetting to lock the back door of the store again. And it was _definitely_ wrong to think about Gerard drinking his blood in church; that was inappropriate for so many reasons, not least because every time he thought about it, hispants felt a little too tight all of a sudden.

It did provide an effective distraction from church itself, though, which Frank always welcomed but even more so recently. It was bad enough ignoring the suspicious looks form his mother when they were at home, but it was much harder when she was a foot away from him in a church pew. They were talking less and less every day, making only the bare minimum of polite conversation over dinner and avoiding each other entirely most of the time. It did make Frank a little sad, because part of him missed when he and his mom would do almost everything together, back when he was struggling his way through catholic school with barely any real friends, and would put up a fuss about going to church but secretly enjoyed it. Right after his dad had left, the two of them had been forced to bond a lot more, to stick together because it was just the two of them against the world it seemed, but all of that seemed to be fading. Frank managed to find some strange comfort in reminding himself that they were drifting apart because he was finally sticking up for himself, and that was a good thing, but it still hurt.

And it would have been much harder if he hadn’t had Gerard. It was so easy to forget about everything else when they were smoking and talking on the hood of his car, or making out behind the 7-Eleven counter, or exchanging overexcited handjobs and blowjobs in Gerard’s basement. Or when Frank was wondering what it would feel like for Gerard to sink his fangs into his neck.

It was as Gerard sucked a little bruise into the skin of Frank’s chest (low enough down that it would be covered by his shirt, and thus hidden from his mom) that Frank brought up the biting thing. It had been a fair few days since that first conversation in the kitchen, and since Frank had been so oddly transfixed by the sight of Gerard drinking blood out of a coffee mug.

“I’d let you bite me.”

Gerard made a small choking noise and jerked away, sitting up and staring at him. “What?”

Frank blushed, but stuck to his guns. “It would be pretty practical.”

Gerard made another wordless noise, hands still resting on Frank’s bare chest, before finally letting out a little laugh. “I’m not gonna bite you, Frankie.”

“Come on, why not?”

“I respect you too much. I don’t want you to think I just see you as a meal.” As if to illustrate his point, he gently pressed his lips to Frank’s cheek.

Frank decided that if he was still in with a shot of getting a blowjob that evening, he was probably better off dropping the subject. And while the thought stuck at the forefront of his mind even long after Gerard had gone home, it wasn’t until the next time that they were sat on Gerard’s couch watching a movie that he dared bring it up.

“I know you don’t just see me as a meal.”

“What?”

Frank shrugged, shifting his legs in Gerard’s lap. “You’ve gone this long without biting me. I think I can be pretty confident you like me for more than just my blood.”

“Jesus Christ, this again?” He sounded slightly irritated, but there was a little smile on his face. “Why do you even want me to?”

Frank hadn’t actually given that much thought. He took a sip of his beer before resting the can on the arm of the sofa, thinking. “I dunno, I guess… well, it’s like, a connection, y’know? I mean, I’m sure you’ve bitten plenty of people without _connecting_ with them at all, but… you can’t get much closer than that, can you?”

Gerard gave him a sideways look. “I just think I’d feel bad. Drinking my boyfriend’s blood.”

Frank’s stomach flipped. Gerard suddenly seemed to realise the way he’d worded that, realised that he’d just called Frank his boyfriend. But, Frank supposed, that’s what they were. He bit his lip, smiling, and shifted forwards to kiss Gerard’s cheek. “You’re weird.”

Resting his chin on top of Frank’s head, Gerard skimmed a hand over the side of Frank’s neck and sighed. “I mean it, though. I’d feel bad hurting you.”

 _I wouldn’t mind._ Frank debated saying it, debated telling Gerard that thoughts of how it would feel for Gerard to bite him had completely taken up his mind for days. And while he didn’t fully admit his real motivation behind wanting Gerard to bite him, he didn’t really drop the subject for the rest of the evening. He kept his tone light, politely interested, skirting around straight up _asking_ Gerard to bite him and just hoping he would get the message. He’d learnt from experience that Gerard tended to refuse to do things out of “respect” for Frank, or some other annoyingly logical reason, but he’d always give in. And Frank was confident that he was going to win this one. He did his best to bide his time, sat in the chair at Gerard’s messy desk and watching as he collected up all of the sketchbook pages littering his bed to make room for them. Gerard was humming quietly to himself, t shirt slipping every time he bent over to pick stuff up and revealing a sliver of soft, pale stomach, and the sight of him was just getting too much for Frank. So he concluded his best bet was just to straight up ask. “Bite me. Please.”

Gerard dropped the stack of paper that he was carrying from his bed to his desk. “What?”

“You heard me.” Frank got to his feet, took a step closer to him and grabbed the front of his shirt. “Fucking bite me. I know you want to.”

“I can’t, Frank.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Will you stop being so respectful for a second? I’m literally _asking_ you to bite me!”

Gerard ducked his head and rested it on Frank’s shoulder, nose just nudging at his jaw, and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’ll get overexcited.”

“No you won’t. Please, just bite me.”

Gerard inhaled deeply, nose pressed to Frank’s skin, and ran a hand up his chest.

“Quit sniffing me and do it!”

“You’re absolutely sure you want me to?”

“Why do you think I’ve been asking for days, you idiot?”

With a small laugh, Gerard placed a hand under Frank’s chin and tilted it upwards so that their lips could meet. What started off as quite a gentle, innocent kiss quickly turned into Frank prising Gerard’s lips apart so that their tongues could meet and dragging him backwards towards the bed. Gerard got with the program pretty quickly, nudging Frank backwards onto the mattress and clambering on top of him without breaking the kiss, until Frank turned his head slightly to the side to whisper in Gerard’s ear. “Please. You want to. I know you do.”

“And you’re sure that _you_ want me to?” Gerard lips brushed over Frank’s neck, making a little gasp escape his mouth.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

He’d expected it to hurt a lot, and he certainly had _not_ expected to pop a boner from it. But as he felt the fangs breaking the skin and sinking into his neck he was flooded with such an intense wave of pleasure that has back arched up off of the mattress, hands fisting in the back of Gerard’s shirt. He could feel some of the warm blood escaping from Gerard’s mouth and dripping down onto the mattress beneath him.

“Holy- _fuck_ , Gerard, holy fucking shit,” he just about managed to choke out, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back as Gerard sucked on the wound.

When Gerard finally pulled away, Frank had to force himself to open his eyes and look up at him, and he was very glad he had done so; Gerard was straddling his thighs, one hand still on the side of Frank’s neck, and there was a trickle of blood running down his chin. His hair was all over the place, and there was a wild look in his eyes, but underneath it Frank could still see a hint of that slightly worried but overwhelmingly affectionate look that Gerard gave him sometimes.

“Was that okay? Are you okay?"

Frank nodded very slowly, in complete awe of the whole thing. “Fuck yeah, that was okay.” He moved the hand still holding onto the back of Gerard’s shirt around to his front and dragged him down for a kiss, making him squeal with shock, which only made Frank grin. It was definitely weird kissing someone who’d just had a mouthful of blood, because he could taste it so clearly and he could tell that they were probably making a bit of a mess, but he didn’t care.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Frankie,” Gerard said against his mouth, running a hand over the bite marks on Frank’s neck before pulling away from the kiss for a second to stick his finger in his mouth and lick the blood off of it, and it was _so_ fucked up how much that was turning Frank on.

When Gerard leaned back in to kiss him again, Frank slid his hand down to the front of Gerard’s jeans. “Do you wanna fuck me?”

And Gerard pulled away properly at that, propping himself up on one arm and looking down at him. “You… you want me to?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard bit his lip, his mouth stained a dark red. “Only if you’re sure.”

“Look,” said Frank, resisting the urge to ruin the moment by rolling his eyes. “I really do appreciate your whole… respectful thing that you’ve got going on, and I appreciate that you check in about a hundred times every time I ask you do to anything, but… yeah. I’m sure.”

“I just want to make sure you don’t regret anything.”

Frank was suddenly hit with such an overwhelming feeling of… love, he supposed. And despite the fact that Gerard had literally just _drank his blood,_ he felt so cared for. He wasn’t used to it.

Gerard moved slowly, kissing down Frank’s neck again and pausing to lick over the puncture marks again, which sent a tingle all the way through Frank’s body, before slowly tugging both of their shirts over their heads. He spent a minute or so planting a kiss on each of the tattoos on Frank’s chest and stomach, and only when Frank subconsciously starting rolling his hips in need of friction against his cock did Gerard finally tug his jeans down.

“There’s lube in the top drawer,” Gerard said as he started pulling Frank’s underwear down.

Trying to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking slightly, Frank leaned over and pulled open the drawer, rummaging around until he found the little bottle of lube, and handed it to Gerard.

“This is gonna feel weird at first,” said Gerard, looking up as he poured lube onto his fingers. “But then it’s gonna feel so fucking good, I promise."

Frank nodded. “I know."

Very slowly, Gerard pushed one finger in. He was right, Frank thought, that did feel weird as fuck, but he took a deep breath and focused on the feeling of Gerard’s other hand on the back of his thigh, a thumb gently stroking his skin.

“You ok?"

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Keep going.”

Gerard nodded and started moving his finger slowly. After a few more minutes, during which Gerard was constantly checking in with Frank, he added a second finger. The stretch was slightly more painful with two, but the initial sting faded pretty quickly, giving way to a perfectly manageable (if slightly strange) feeling of fullness. Frank kept a hold on Gerard’s other hand, their fingers interlinked, when suddenly Gerard crooked his fingers upwards and Frank was filled with such an intense wave of pleasure that his back arched up off of the mattress and he let out a long groan.

“Just there?” Gerard smirked.

Frank tried to give a verbal response, but just as he opened his mouth Gerard moved again and all that he managed was another general noise of assent. Gerard seemed to get the message though, and started moving his fingers slightly faster, scissoring them and twisting them to hit that same spot again and again, making Frank moan.

“Fuck, that feels- _fuck_ , Gerard, keep going!” All of the pain was pretty much gone by that point and Gerard was kissing along Frank’s jaw again, reducing him to a squirming, moaning mess.

But just as Frank started to worry that he was going to come before they could even fuck properly, , Gerard pulled both of his fingers all of the way out and leaned forwards to kiss the corner of Frank’s mouth. “Okay?"

“Yeah,” Frank panted, still squeezing Gerard’s other hand. “Do we need a condom?”

Gerard shook his head and started fumbling with his jeans. “I’m dead, so I’m sterile. And it feels better this way, anyway.”

Frank nodded and propped himself up on his elbows to watch as Gerard poured more lube into his hand and wrapped it around his dick, mouth falling open. His hair fell into his face as he jerked himself off slowly, before he bent forwards to give Frank another quick kiss, and smiled down at him. “Thank you. For letting me do this.”

He smiled back, resting a hand on the side of Gerard’s face and flicking a thumb out to catch a little drop of blood at the corner of his mouth in a strangely tender gesture. “You don’t need to thank me. I want to do this.”

The look that Gerard was giving him made Frank feel all warm inside. He let Gerard push his thighs back, feeling completely exposed, but any embarrassment he may have had was lost when Gerard pressed their mouths together again. Frank parted his lips, letting Gerard push his tongue into his mouth for a second.

“I’m gonna go slow. And tell me if you wanna stop.”

Frank nodded.

Slowly, just as promised, Gerard started to push in. The stretch was much more than a couple of fingers; Gerard wasn’t small by any means. It definitely hurt, enough for Frank to squeeze his eyes shut and grip onto Gerard’s shoulder, but Frank just took deep breaths through his mouth and tightened his hand in Gerard’s hair. Just as Frank started to think he’d have to ask Gerard to wait, he stopped.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just gimme a second.”

They both stayed perfectly still apart from Gerard’s lips moving across Frank’s cheek and along his jaw, the kisses soft and tender and comforting. Frank could feel his heart beating, and he was sure Gerard could too, no sound coming from either of them except Frank’s breathing. And they were so fucking _close_ , as close as they could physically get, and Frank’s thoughts had all tangled together because he couldn’t think of anything except how close they were. Suddenly, he felt a little giggle bubble up in his chest.

“What?”

He smiled again and shifted to press his lips to Gerard’s. “You’re cold.”

Gerard chuckled and brought an equally cold hand up to cup Frank’s cheek. “Sorry.”

After maybe thirty more seconds of soft kisses, the sting had faded into a dull ache again and Frank shifted his hips very slightly. “Ok, you can move.”

“Slow?”

“For now.”

Gerard pulled out inch by inch until he was almost all the way out, before slowly pushing back in. “Good?”

“Yeah, that’s good. I’m good.” Frank grinned up at him. As he was getting used to the feeling it was getting a lot less weird. Still weird, but not necessarily bad.

“You can speed up a little bit,” said Frank after a couple of minutes.

“You sure?”

Frank rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Gerard gradually increased his speed but stayed just as gentle and kept one hand on the side of Frank’s face, the other on the pillow next to him. Frank’s legs were hitched up around Gerard’s waist, and as he shifted his hips slightly he was suddenly hit with the shock of pleasure that he’d gotten from Gerard’s fingers. “Fuck, right there!”

“Yeah?”

Frank nodded as Gerard moved his hand to his thigh to hold him in place and started moving slightly faster, hitting Frank’s prostate on every couple of thrusts. It hit Frank just then that they were actually _fucking,_ and that it felt really fucking good and Gerard was still being so gentle with him and ducking to kiss him over and over again, and he couldn’t help but smile. When Gerard hit his prostate dead on again he let out a noise that he would have been embarrassed by if he hadn’t been so distracted by just how good it felt. “You- you were right, Gee, that’s so fucking good.”

“It doesn’t hurt too bad?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” He threaded a hand into the hair at the nape of Gerard’s neck, but his soft smile was wiped off of his face when Gerard changed the angle slightly and suddenly he was hitting his prostate on almost every single thrust, and Frank couldn’t do anything except tilt his head back and groan. Gerard kept his movements at the exact same pace, but Frank could hear the little noises he was making. “Fuck, you feel so good, Frank.”

Frank nodded, nails digging into Gerard’s shoulder. “Faster, _shit_.”

And Gerard obliged, muttering semi-coherent streams of praise mixed in with curses and Frank’s name. The hand not on Frank’s thigh inched between his legs and finally got a hold of his aching cock, making Frank gasp writhe around on the mattress. The combined sensation of Gerard consistently hitting his prostate while slowly jerking him off was unlike anything he’d felt before, and he could feel warmth starting to pool in his stomach as his orgasm approached. “F-fuck, yeah, Gee-”

“Yeah? Is this okay?”

“Mhm.”

Gerard’s hand moved faster, matching the pace of his thrusts which were starting to get more erratic, making Frank keen.

As Frank started to teeter on the edge of coming, Gerard kissed him just as softly and lovingly as before, gently pushing his tongue into Frank’s mouth. “I’m- _fuck_ , I’m close, Frankie.”

“Me too,” Frank said, his hips moving down to meet Gerard’s thrusts and back up to meet his hand.

When Gerard did come, his hips stuttered before coming to a standstill as he let out a long moan against Frank’s mouth, but his hand on Frank’s dick kept moving.

“Shit, yeah, keep going!” Frank must have closed his eyes at some point even though he couldn’t remember doing so, and the feeling of Gerard coming inside him was so ridiculously dirty but so good, and made his back arch up off the bed and his hand twist in Gerard’s hair as he came harder than ever before. Gerard kept jerking him through it, kissing Frank as the waves of white hot pleasure washed over him and he couldn’t stay quiet for the life of him.

When he finally caught his breath and opened his eyes, Gerard was lying half on top of him, a come-sticky hand resting on his chest. He slowly pulled out and rolled to the side, looking up at Frank. “Was that okay?”  
Frank didn’t say anything for a moment. He just smiled over at Gerard, bathing in the afterglow of his orgasm. “Yeah. That was amazing.”

It was endearing how genuinely overjoyed Gerard looked as he cupped Frank’s face in one hand again, before leaning in and licking the bite marks in his neck. Frank closed his eyes, totally blissed out as Gerard ran his tongue over the wound, and stroked a hand through Gerard’s hair. It was definitely weird to feel Gerard’s cum dripping out of him, and should probably have made him feel totally debauched, but he was just… happy.

As Gerard switched to slowly kissing his throat, he made to sit up slightly and Gerard made a displeased noise. “Where are you going?”

His smile widening, Frank kissed Gerard quickly. “I should probably shower. So should you, actually, considering you’ve been lying in my cum for five minutes.”

“And then we can cuddle?”

“Yes, then we can cuddle.”

Under the hot water, Frank stood with his head resting on Gerard’s shoulder as he slowly washed his hair for him, and as the suds ran down the drain they just stood there kissing (admittedly easier for Gerard, given that he didn’t need to breathe so the water running over them had no effect on him) until the shower started to go cold. When Frank was stood in front of the steamed up mirror and rubbing his hair dry with a towel, Gerard came up behind him and made him jump because if his lack of reflection, and kissed right over the now closed puncture wound on his neck. It was hardly noticeable, not unless you were looking for it.

“D’you think anyone’s gonna see it and ask questions?” Frank asked Gerard’s reflection.

He tucked his chin over Frank’s shoulder, arms around his waist. “Probably not. It will heal a bit more, so it’ll be pretty much invisible.” He pulled Frank slightly closer so that his chest was pressed to his back and pressed his lips to the spot again. “I could always cover it in hickeys just in case.”

Frank laughed. “My mom wasn’t too thrilled when I home with hickeys once in the twelfth grade. Better not.”

He regretted saying that almost immediately though, because as Gerard led him out of the bathroom and back into bed his mind was suddenly flooded with thought of his mother, and realisations of what he’d done, and once again it felt like his brain was fighting against itself: one side of it reminding him that he didn’t care, that he didn’t believe in any of that guilt tripping bullshit, but the other side bombarding him with thoughts of what would happen if he got found out. Thoughts of his mom sending him away, not caring that he wasn’t a little kid anymore so she couldn’t just control him. Thoughts of the looks he’d get at church every week, because obviously he would never be let off going to church for the rest of his life. Thoughts of his mom hating him for something he didn’t think was wrong at all.

“Frank, you’re crying.”

He hadn’t noticed. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

Frank turned to look at Gerard, lying next to him, and rubbed his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop apologising for everything?”

Gerard gently rubbed a thumb over Frank’s cheek, proposing himself up on one elbow. “But I am sorry. If you regret it, or anything.”

“I don’t regret it, you idiot.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Gerard shifted so that he was straddling Frank’s thighs and gently rested a hand on the side of his neck, right over the bite marks. “Do you wanna put your necklace back on?”

Frank bit his lip, thinking about the familiar weight of the little silver crucifix against his chest, then nodded.

Gerard nodded back, smiling, and ducked down to kiss Frank softly. “It doesn’t hurt me if it’s under your shirt."

“Okay.” Frank sat up, forcing Gerard to shift back slightly, and reached down to pick up his jeans off of the floor. Gerard slid off of him and sat with his back against the wall, head turned to the side, as Frank fastened the silver chain around his neck and pulled his t shirt back on over it. Once the crucifix was tucked away, he pulled Gerard back over and hugged him. “This just feels different. Y’know, to just doing other stuff. But I wanted to. And I’m glad we did.”

They sat in each other’s arms, Frank’s head resting on Gerard’s bare shoulder, until the door opened and they sprung away from each other.

Mikey immediately slapped a hand over his eyes. “Sorry!”

“It’s ok, we’re decent,” said Gerard.

Mikey slowly removed his hand, looking over at Frank. “You ok, Frank?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Frank rubbed his eyes, then smiled weakly.

“Gerard, we have a situation.”

“What?” Gerard sat up a little straighter, eyes wide.

“They’re back.”

Gerard’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Who’s back?”

Mikey ignored Frank completely. “Yeah, I saw the car in town. It’s definitely them.”

“Definitely _who_?” Frank grabbed a hold of Gerard’s wrist, forcing him to turn and face him.

Gerard let out a long sigh and scratched his head. “Hunters. Vampire hunters. Shit, Mikes. Why are they here? It can’t be for us, can it? They don’t know about us, they can’t.”

“I guess we have to find out who else is around that they might be after.”

Frank still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. “Hold on, vampire hunters? Like, it’s their job to kill you guys?”

Both Gerard and Mikey winced at the word “kill”. Mikey leant against the doorframe rubbing his eyes and looking stressed. “Yeah, basically. It’s kinda complicated.”

“Is it like in Buffy? I know you mentioned it before, but you didn’t really explain it.”

Mikey openly rolled his eyes at that. Gerard chuckled. “It’s not really like Buffy. It’s not like one specific person is born with the ability to, y’know… kill us, or whatever. It’s just passed down in some families. A family business, I guess.”

Frank felt slightly sick. “So they’re gonna try and kill you two?”

“Not if we’re careful,” said Mikey. “They don’t have any special ways of finding vampires or anything, so we just need to keep on the down low for a few days, until they leave town. No hunting. I just checked the fridge, we’ve got enough to last us a while. You hungry?”

Gerard suddenly broke off the eye contact with Mikey and started picking a loose thread on his bedsheets. He was pulling an expression that told Frank he’d definitely be blushing if it were possible. “No, I, uh… I’m good.”

Mikey looked between Gerard and Frank, who could _feel_ himself blushing, his eyes lingering on Frank’s neck, where Frank knew his vampiric good eyesight would pick up on the faint bite marks. “For fuck’s sake, Gee, you didn’t.”

“He asked me to! He’d been asking for ages, it’s not like I sprung it on him!”

Rolling his eyes, Mikey folded his arms. “Just don’t go doing anything stupid. I’d rather not have to explain to his mom how her son died of blood loss.”

It didn’t take much persuading on Gerard’s part to make Frank abandon any plans to pull his jeans back on and head home, and to text his mom to say he was staying over at a friend’s house. Gerard’s bed was piled high with a ridiculous number of blankets, which made up for the fact that he himself was cold enough to make Frank shiver just from lying pressed up against him.

As the sky outside darkened, Frank settled down with his head on Gerard’s chest, still not entirely used to the dead silence instead of the sound of a heart beating. “You don’t sleep, do you?”

Gerard shook his head. “I don’t mind lying here while you sleep, though.”

“What, you’ll just wait for me to wake up?”

“You underestimate how much I like staring at you.”

Frank had a slight feeling of his stomach flipping over as he looked up at Gerard, who stared right back. “Okay.”

They ended up putting on a shitty horror movie, but with the volume low so that Frank could listen to Gerard tell him every tiny thing about being a vampire. Even after he stopped asking questions and started dozing off, Gerard kept talking quietly, the sound of his voice lulling Frank to sleep.

As usual, Frank dreaded going home in the morning. He knew his mom would be at work, and when she did get home she probably wouldn’t question his statement that he’d just stayed at a friend’s house, but Gerard’s house had started to feel like home. He didn’t have to be careful about everything he said, and he didn’t have to put on a facade to hide so much like he did at home around his mother. And, of course, Gerard was there.

When Frank woke up, His head was still on Gerard’s cold, pale chest, one arm draped over him so that his hand hung off the edge of the bed. Gerard was reading a comic, his other hand playing with the hair at the nape of Frank’s neck.

“Hey.”

Gerard glanced down at him. “Morning.”

When Gerard bent down to kiss him, Frank ducked away, chuckling, “I have morning breath and you have a superhuman sense of smell.”

“I don’t care.”

Once again, Frank was slightly overwhelmed by the intense look Gerard gave him, especially first thing in the morning. When their lips met, Frank had to try his hardest not to grin.

“Breakfast?"

Frank raised an eyebrow.

Gerard rolled his eyes. “I meant for you.”

“Oh.” Frank was slightly disappointed, having rather looked forward to the prospect of Gerard biting him again. “Yeah, sure.”

Of course, the house was rather void of human food, so Frank ended up eating leftover Chinese takeout in the kitchen, his feet resting in Gerard’s lap.

Gerard seemed, if possible, even more reluctant to let him go than he was to go himself, and clung onto the front of his jacket as they made out in the hallway, before Frank finally pulled away with a laugh. “I have to leave.”

Groaning, Gerard slid a hand under Frank’s jacket and clung onto his shirt. “Or you could just stay here. For, like, ever.”

Frank had to shift onto his tiptoes slightly to kiss Gerard’s cold cheek. “Mom’s gonna start noticing I’m never there.” But he was suddenly struck with an idea as he remembered that his mom was still at work. “But… well, you could come over for a bit. If you can stay out of the sun on the way from the front door to my car.”

Gerard looked rather strange getting out of Frank’s car under a black umbrella and with his hood pulled up over his head. It was a surprisingly nice day considering that it was November, so Gerard had to squint as they walked up Frank’s front path.

“This is so weird,” he said once he was safely under the shelter of the porch. “It’s been so long since I went out during the day. Can’t believe I never thought of using an umbrella.”

“You’re kinda dumb sometimes.” Frank managed to get the front door open and pulled Gerard inside, ignoring the indignant noises he was making until he pinched Frank, hard, on the ass. “Hey!”

“You deserved that.”

Gerard laughed at the scowl on Frank’s face and tugged him back in for a kiss, the front door closing behind them. They were stood out of the way of the beams of sunlight streaming in through the unobscured kitchen window, Gerard’s back pressing against the countertop, and Frank let himself pretend, once again, that everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to everyone who's been reading so far!
> 
> Again, if anyone wants to beta this fic it would be much appreciated, so please message my (shitty) poetry blog (p4tr0ns4int on Tumblr) or my twitter (mimimustdie) if you're interested :)
> 
> kudos and comments really make my day, so do let me know if you have any feedback, negative or positive!
> 
> links to my Tumblr and Twitter:  
> [https://p4tr0ns4int.tumblr.com/](url)  
> [https://twitter.com/mimimustdie/](url)


	9. Chapter 9

_"For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth."_

_(Romans 1:18)_

Frank had never intended to repeat the experience of the first time going to church after losing his virginity. From what he remembered of that Sunday in his junior year, he’d spent the entire sermon sweating nervously and worrying that somehow everyone, including his mom, would know what he’d done, but he’d always thought that that guilt would be a one time thing, and hadn’t really prepared himself to relive the entire thing as he sat there next to his mother a couple of days after having sex with Gerard. Frank wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at just how _obscene_ it was that he winced every time he sat back down in the pews, pain shooting up from his ass and the thoughts of why he was hurting sneaking into his head. _Nothing makes you feel quite as guilty as thinking about getting fucked by a vampire in the middle of a church service._

As usual, confession made him want to throw up, but he’d half resigned himself to the fact that it was only going to get worse and worse every week, so managed to get through it without punching a wall or something. He snuck off for a cigarette with Ray and leaned against the wall round the side of the church, blowing smoke up into the sky and relishing the moments away from his mother and her churchgoing friends. He liked that Ray never pushed for a conversation; he knew that if Frank wanted to talk, he’d talk. And he decided he wanted to.

“I have a boyfriend. I think.”

“You think?” Ray turned so that he had a shoulder against the wall and was facing Frank properly.

Frank considered that for a moment. Gerard had referred to him as his boyfriend, and they certainly acted like a couple. “Well, I’m pretty sure he’s my boyfriend.”

“Anyone I’d know?”

Frank held back a chuckle at the genuine interest in Ray’s voice, as if they were teenage girls gossiping at a sleepover. Though it did make him feel all warm inside, even then, to know that Ray would actually be on his side if things went wrong, and that he wouldn’t hold anything against him. “I don’t think you know him. He’s… a bit of a recluse. You’d like him, though, he’s got good music taste.”

Ray nodded approvingly. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Frank grinned, then stuck his head round the corner of the church to see the slowly dispersing crowd in the parking lot. His mother seemed to be deep in conversation with Father Davis, a little way away from everyone else and looking harried. As he watched her, she glanced over in his direction, caught his eye for a second and jerked her head as if to say _come here_.

“I should probably get going,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall and chucking it into the bushes.

His mom had a strangely stiff look on her face when he walked back over to her and made to get in the car. She looked as if she wanted to say something to him, but had decided not to at the last minute, so they sat in dead silence for the first few minutes of the drive home. She didn’t like listening to the radio while she drove.

As they passed through the centre of town, she finally broke the silence. “You had a friend over last week.”

Frank’s stomach dropped. He slowly turned to look at her, but she was staring resolutely at the road in front of her.

“Y-yeah. Just Gerard.” His voice came out shakier than he intended.

His mom pulled up to a stoplight, fingers tapping on the steering wheel, and finally looked over at him. “And what did you do with Gerard?”

That’s when he knew for sure that the conversation was going exactly where he’d hoped it would never go. He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself not to turn away despite feeling all of the blood draining from his face. “We, uh… we just hung out.”

With a sharp exhale, she turned back to face the road, jaw clenched. “There are windows in our kitchen. People see things, and they talk.”

It sort of felt like the entire world was crumbling around him. His brain had gone completely empty, not a single thought of what to do or say in response, and all he could do was try and focus on forcing breath in and out of his lungs. He didn’t say anything for a long time, because he knew there wasn’t really anything he _could_ say to make anything better.

The rest of the drive home would have been in silence if it wasn’t for the ridiculously loud beating of Frank’s heart. He wondered if he was going into shock. The second his mom took the keys out of the ignition, he shoved the passenger side door open and half ran up the driveway to where his own car was parked, rummaging in his pockets for his car keys.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His mom shouted after him.

He paused, a hand on his car door. “Out.”

Somehow he knew she wouldn’t try and stop him.

By some miracle, he managed not to cry for the whole drive over to Gerard’s, focusing as hard as he could on the music playing through the stereo and the road in front of him, the route almost second nature by then.

_She knows._

The second Gerard opened the front door, Frank pushed him backwards and pressed their mouths together, clinging onto the collar of his shirt. Gerard seemed slightly taken aback, his hands hovering awkwardly in mid air for a second as Frank slid his tongue into his mouth and started pushing him in the direction of the basement. Eventually he seemed to get it together, though, and gently pulled away, a hand sliding around to rest on the back of Frank’s neck. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just-” Frank grabbed him by the wrist and started dragging him down the stairs. “I want you.”

Gerard followed him down into the basement slightly cautiously. “I can tell something’s up, Frankie.”

Frank shut the door behind them and made to kiss Gerard again, but Gerard gently held him back with a hand on his chest. “Frankie.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m fine! Can we have sex now, please?”

Gerard looked hm up and down. He was still dressed in his church clothes, breathing heavily and hands clenched in fists at his sides. “You sure you’re okay? Nothing happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He made to unbutton his shirt, but Gerard took a hold of his wrists. He felt anger bubbling up inside him again, but it vanished when Gerard leaned in and kissed him softly.

“You wanna talk about it later?”

He took a couple of deep breaths, eyes closed. “Yeah. Later.”

When he opened his eyes again, Gerard was nodding. They stumbled back onto the bed, mouths connected again. Frank kept tugging on the hem of Gerard’s shirt until he gave in and pulled it off over his head in the crossed-arms way that girls did it, which made Frank laugh as he took off his own shirt. Gerard shut him up with another kiss, sliding his hands down to Frank’s hips and lifting them up enough to tug his pants down. When he sat back on his heels to unbutton his own jeans, Frank brought a hand up to cup his face.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just really pretty.”

Gerard broke their eye contact, looking slightly flustered, but Frank caught the small smile on his face. It was that embarrassed little smile that made Frank feel all warm inside, the one that made it easier to forget about what had happened because it felt like everything would be okay.

But before he could let himself do something embarrassing, like cry or tell Gerard how much he loved him (because he _did_ love him, he’d known that for much too long), he pulled him back down and kissed him as hard as he could. Gerard got with the program pretty quick, grabbing Frank’s hips again and shifting him so that their crotches were perfectly lined up, grinding against him and letting their tongues move together. Frank slid a hand into Gerard’s underwear and relished the noises that Gerard made against his mouth as he jerked him off slowly, before pulling his underwear down properly. Gerard did the same to him, leaving them both completely naked and moaning into each other’s mouths, both reluctant to do anything to break the contact and stop the wonderful friction of each other’s hands and mouths. Eventually, Gerard used his free hand to grip one of Frank’s thighs and push it up and back. “You want me to…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, please.” Frank lifted his other leg up and ran a hand through Gerard’s hair as he started kissing his neck.

“You can give me hickeys.”

“But won’t your mom-”

“No.”

Gerard raised his head and gave Frank a slightly quizzical look, but didn’t ask questions. He just returned his mouth to the sensitive skin of Frank’s throat and started sucking bruises into it, one hand moving up to cup his jaw and tilt his head further to the side. When he brought two fingers to Frank’s lips, he opened his mouth and let them in straight away, sucking on them and running his tongue over his fingertips. Gerard pressed the pads of his fingers against his tongue, not so far into his mouth to make him choke on them but just enough for Frank to get them wet past the second knuckle. He was achingly hard again Gerard’s thigh, rolling his hips, and wanted nothing more than for Gerard to _hurry the fuck up_. Just as he was about to get demanding, though, Gerard slid his fingers out of Frank’s mouth, chuckling at the way he instinctively followed them, slightly missing the feeling of them against his tongue. Damp fingers trailed down his chest and stomach and between his legs, the feeling of one of them brushing against his hole making him practically twitch with anticipation.

“Is this okay?” Gerard raised his head, shook his hair out of his eyes and glanced up at Frank earnestly.

“Yeah, fuck, do it.”

The spit didn’t make the slide as easy as it would have been with lube, but Frank didn’t care. As Gerard pushed one finger in slowly, he threw his head back and closed his eyes, not minding the slight pain of his body opening up because he knew it would get so good, and because it was Gerard doing this. Gerard was the only one that got to see him like this, spread out on his back with a finger up his ass and bruises probably littering his neck. Gerard knew just how to bend his finger to hit Frank’s prostate on the first try, making his breath catch, and Gerard knew exactly what to whisper to him to make all the blood rush to his cock. As Gerard pulled out with the first finger and went back in with two, Frank reached over to open the drawer in the nightstand and rummage around until he found the lube. “C’mon, Gee, hurry up!”

“Alright, alright…” Gerard kissed the back of Frank’s thigh softly, taking the lube with his free hand. But as he added a third finger and started wriggling out of his underwear, Frank placed a hand on his forearm, holding him still.

“Wait, wait, let me-” He wriggled out of Gerard’s grip, ignoring the confused noise he made, and rolled onto his front, shifting onto his knees and reaching up to grip the headboard.

“You… you want me to-”

“Yeah. Like this.” He turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Gerard’s face. “That okay?”

Slightly hesitantly, his fingers still moving in his ass, Gerard leaned forwards and kissed the back of Frank’s neck. “Yeah. That’s great. Are you sure?”  
He reached a hand back and scrabbled around until he got a grip on Gerard’s hip and pulled him close, so that his cock was pressed up against Frank’s ass. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Frank bit his lip as Gerard started to push in, eyes closed and fingers digging into the softness of Gerard’s side as he clung to him. It didn’t hurt as much as the first time, but he still found his breath catching in his throat as Gerard stroked a hand over his shoulder, moving ever so slowly. Once he was all the way in, Frank let his head drop down between his shoulders and took several deep breaths. “C’mon, move.”

“It doesn’t hurt too bad?” Gerard whispered in his ear, kissing the side of his neck.

“No, I’m good.”

As Gerard very slowly started to pull out, Frank was hit with the sudden, overwhelming realisation of how much things were about to change. Things had already changed so much; his life was completely different to how it had been a few months ago, and now it was all about to change again, and he didn’t know for the life of him what would happen. Eyes still closed, he told himself that he needed to make the most of this, make the most of Gerard while he could.

“Still okay?”

He nodded, moving so that both of his slightly sweaty hands gripped the headboard. “just… big.”

He heard Gerard let out a little chuckle as he slowly pushed back in, and suddenly felt lips against his shoulder, soft kisses across his upper back. He just managed to turn his head enough to catch the corner of Gerard’s mouth in a firm kiss as his thrusts gradually sped up, and he didn’t try stop any of the noises he was making because it somehow felt like Gerard could go deeper like this, and it felt ridiculously good. “Faster.”

“Mhm.” Gerard did as he was told, breaking the kiss and pressing a hand into the centre of Frank’s back. “Jesus fuck, Frank, so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you- _shit_ , you feel so good.” He shifted the angle slightly, the head of his dick just brushing Frank’s prostate, and let out a groan as frank arched his back slightly more, deepening Gerard’s thrusts even more.

“Oh, fuck, fuck fuck…” Frank chanted, starting to move his hips backwards to meet Gerard’s thrusts and grinning at the noises Gerard was making.

Frank kept pushing him to go faster and harder, and Gerard still seemed hesitant as if he was still worried he’d hurt Frank, but Frank didn’t care. “You’re a fucking vampire, I know you can go harder.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

He shook his head, gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles were white. “I want it.”

And so Gerard obliged, one hand pressed in between Frank’s shoulder blades and the other gripping his hip, the force of his thrusts making Frank’s whole body rock back and forwards, and he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his mouth. He didn’t mind the slight twinge of pain because it felt _so fucking good_ , letting go completely and handing himself over to Gerard to do as he pleased. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat as Gerard started moving slightly faster, muttering praise and curses in Frank’s ear and digging his fingers into Frank’s hip so hard it would probably bruise. He half wished he could see Gerard’s face, his eyes closed and mouth no doubt hanging open in pleasure just like it had last time, but this felt so raw and they could go so much harder and _deeper,_ and he was having trouble forming coherent thoughts let alone sentences because of how good it felt. It felt a lot less tender, less personal, than last time, but it was exactly what Frank needed.

“Okay?”

Frank nodded, reaching around and wrapping an arm around Gerard’s neck and tilting his head to press their mouths together. The kiss was hard and messy, the angle awkward, but Frank just wanted as much of Gerard as he could possibly get. He didn’t realise he’d said that out loud into Gerard’s mouth until Gerard nodded. “Mhm.”

And suddenly Gerard was hitting his prostate dead-on on every few thrusts and he was letting out a shout so loud that he was _very_ glad Mikey wasn’t home. “Fuck, shit, right there!”

“You- ah, fuck, Frankie, you feel so fucking good,” said Gerard, hand tightening on his hip.

Frank’s breath was coming in short gasps as he tried to keep up, rocking his hips back and arching his back. “Touch me.”

Gerard nodded, the hand that had been on Frank’s back snaking down to grasp his cock and start stroking it in time with his thrusts. The contact sent a shock of white hot pleasure through Frank’s whole body, and for a brief moment he was only held up by his arm around Gerard as his other hand slipped from the headboard. With Gerard’s mouth right next to his ear, he could hear every little noise he was making, every quiet moan and gasp, every half incoherent word, and Frank didn’t think he’d ever heard anything hotter.

On one particularly hard thrust, Frank was shoved forward so hard that he had to put a hand back against the headboard to stop himself from colliding with it, and Gerard leaned forwards to rest his hand over Frank’s and intertwine their fingers. It was a strangely tender action, contrasting entirely with the force and speed with which Gerard was fucking him by that point, but the feeling of Gerard’s cold hand against his (and not to mention the feeling of his dick in his ass) made a small smile creep onto his face.

“You’re so fucking hot, Frank,” Gerard mumbled against the back of Frank’s neck, the hand not holding his still on Frank’s cock, moving faster to keep in time with his own cock sliding into Frank’s ass.

With one hand tangled in Gerard’s hair, Frank just managed to gain control of himself for long enough to lift his head up and whisper, “Bite me.”

“Hm?” Gerard lifted his head up, his nose just underneath Frank’s ear.

“Bite me, motherfucker,” Frank gasped out, still rocking his hips back to meet Gerard’s thrusts.

“You sure?”

His ability to form words was quickly deteriorating as Gerard hit his prostate on every couple of thrusts, so he just nodded vigorously, tilting his head back further so that the line of his throat was fully exposed.

The feeling of the fangs sinking into his neck, and the blood flowing into Gerard’s mouth, made Frank let out a shout so loud the neighbours next door probably heard it. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think about anything except the blinding pleasure coursing through him as he came hard, catching himself half by surprise, his hips jerking against Gerard’s hand. His other hand, the one on Frank's chest, was pretty much holding him up at this point, because all of his muscles seemed to have completely given up.

The feeling of Frank coming around him, combined with the blood, must have sent Gerard over the edge as well. “f-fuck, Frank, I’m-”

Frank’s brain seemed to have short-circuited, so he just nodded. “Mhm.”

Tongue running over the bleeding wound, Gerard’s grip on his hips got impossibly tight as he stilled and came inside Frank, a long drawn-out groan escaping his mouth.

When Frank finally regained some control over himself and opened his eyes, he was lying with his face buried in his arms, ass still in the air as Gerard collapsed next to him. He just managed to roll onto his back, ignoring the twinge of pain in his ass, and felt Gerard shift so that his head was on Frank’s chest. “Jesus fucking Christ. Where the fuck did that come from?”

He couldn’t really think of anything to say, and even if he could have he wasn’t sure that he was entirely capable of speaking just yet. He lay there with an arm draped over Gerard’s shoulders as he caught his breath, staring at the ceiling. He felt like all of his anger and frustration had dissipated, like it had just been fucked out of him. The thought made him smile.

Gerard seemed to slowly be coming back to earth too, kissing the spot just below Frank’s ear before running his tongue softly over the fresh bite marks in his neck. “You’re all sweaty.”

rank let out a small laugh, almost a giggle. “That does tend to happen when you get fucked senseless. Y’know, for us humans.”

Biting his lip, Gerard smiled up at him, his eyes still a dark, barely noticeable red. Frank tried his best to make sure that anything going on his head wasn’t visible on his face, because he didn’t have the energy to explain it yet. So he just kissed the top of Gerard head and pulled him closer, the two of them staying there until they concluded that they _really_ needed to shower.

Clean and warm, both with soaking wet hair and Frank with very pink cheeks from the heat of the shower, they got dressed and made their way upstairs at last. Frank had gotten very used to wandering around in Gerard’s t shirts and hoodies, and as he sat at the kitchen table and dialled the number of the pizza place into his phone, he relished how normal it made him feel. This is what normal couples did - wearing each other’s clothes and ordering takeout and sitting down to watch a horror movie. About half an hour in, not long after Frank’s pizza arrived, Mikey came down from his room and sat down silently at one end of the sofa, not looking at them. Frank caught the smile on Gerard’s face as he ruffled Mikey’s hair.

The feeling of their hands laced together, Gerard’s thumb rubbing over the back of Frank’s hand, made him feel ridiculously peaceful. He smiled to himself, head resting against the arm of the sofa, and glanced away from the TV to see that Gerard was staring at him. As he watched, Gerard smiled back, then slowly lifted Frank’s hand up and took his index finger into his mouth. Frank raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly over to where Mikey sat, but Mikey was staring at the TV, leaning forwards slightly and sipping through the straw of his cup, and didn’t seem to notice Frank’s little chuckle as Gerard started nibbling on his finger, fangs just barely breaking the skin. It didn’t hurt - in fact, it was quite a relaxing feeling, and the cheerful look on Gerard’s face as he sucked on the blood made Frank feel strangely warm inside. He turned back to the TV, his fingertip still in Gerard’s mouth and his legs across Gerard’s lap.

He didn’t realise he’d been dozing off until Gerard squeezed his hand gently.

“Hm?”

“You were falling asleep.” Gerard leant froward and kissed the tip of his nose. “You want me to take you home?”

He rubbed one of his eyes, looking around. The movie credits were rolling, and Mikey had vanished from the other end of the couch. Gerard brushed the hair out of his eyes. “You can stay over if you want.”

He nodded. The corner of Gerard’s mouth twitched upwards into a small smile as he pulled Frank to his feet by the hand and led him back down to the basement, their fingers tangled together. When Gerard laid him down on the mattress and tugged the sheets over both of them, he got that feeling of peace that he only really got around Gerard. He didn’t get it at home anymore, that was for sure. The feeling of Gerard’s back against his chest, and the way Gerard’s hair fluttered slightly in the breeze of each of his exhales, and the way Gerard tilted his head back slightly so that it was half on Frank’s shoulder, made him feel like he could almost forget what was waiting for him at home. Almost.

“Gerard?”

“Yeah?”

He was sleepy enough that he was able to speak without thinking too much about what he was actually saying. “My mom knows.”

Frank felt Gerard tense up almost instantly. “How’d she find out? Did you tell her?”

“One of the neighbours must have seen us. Through the kitchen window, I think,” he muttered against the back of Gerard’s neck. “Church has been horrible for ages but it was so much worse today.” He sleepily wondered if he was going to cry.

There was a rustling of sheets in front of him, and Gerard rolled over so that they were face to face. “I know there’s probably not much I can say to make it better, but… if there’s anything I can do, just tell me.”

Frank nodded, then tilted his head slightly so that he could kiss the tip of Gerard’s pointy nose. Gerard slowly threaded their fingers together so that they were holding hands under the covers, faces only inches apart. In the dim moonlight coming in through the single high window, Frank could just make out Gerard’s big, hazel eyes staring at him, the small smile on his face, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead. He never wanted to look away. “Gee?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you.”

For a second, he wondered if he’d made a mistake by saying that. Gerard looked shocked, his thumb freezing where it had been stroking the back of Frank’s hand. _Fuck, I’ve said it now. Can’t take it back._

But then Gerard shifted a fraction of an inch closer to him. “You mean that?”

“Yeah, I do,” he breathed. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Frankie.”

He felt his heart swell, not feeling anywhere near as sleepy anymore. He was the one to close the gap, just brushing his lips against Gerard’s so softly that it was hardly even a kiss, until Gerard’s hand slid round to the back of his neck and tugged him in. Their mouths fit together just as perfectly as ever, Gerard’s cold ones pressed against Frank’s warm ones and catching on his lip ring. When Gerard pulled away and started peppering kisses across Frank’s face and jaw and neck, Frank pressed a hand right over his chest, where his heartbeat would be if he was human. “I love you so much, Gerard. Have for ages.”

With each kiss that he pressed to Frank’s skin, Gerard was whispering _I love you, I love you, I love you._ It was strange, Frank thought, to feel warm all the way through when Gerard was so cold against him. _He loves me._

Frank fell asleep with Gerard’s head tucked under his chin, their chests together and a smile on both of their faces.

He didn’t want to go home in the morning. He knew that the longer he left it the worse it would be when he finally did get home and see his mom, but as he lay in Gerard’s bed, tracing patterns on his chest with one finger and letting Gerard twirl strands of his hair between his fingers, it was so easy to pretend that things were okay. And Gerard loved him, and the more he thought about that, the angrier he got at everyone who had told him that it was sinful or wrong, because nothing this _good_ could ever be wrong, surely.

He pretended to be asleep for a good half an hour once he woke up, because he didn’t want to move. Gerard could probably tell he was faking, could probably hear his heartbeat and his breathing, but he didn’t say anything. When Frank finally opened one eye and shifted so that he was lying on Gerard’s chest, looking up at him, Gerard gave him an almost sad smile. “Morning.”  
Frank was worried that if he tried to talk he’d start crying, so he just tilted Gerard’s head down with a hand on the back of his neck and pressed their lips together softly. It was gentle, but a lot of unsaid words went into it; Gerard didn’t want Frank to leave any more than he did.

But he had to. He eventually had to drag himself out of bed and stumble around looking for his clothes - his church clothes from the day before - and slide his necklace back around his neck, and climb the stairs out of the basement. Mikey was nowhere to be found upstairs, so Gerard took the opportunity to cling onto Frank for a second longer and kiss him just inside the front door, hiding from the rays of sunlight.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered in Frank’s ear, then pressed his lips to the spot just below Frank’s jaw.

Frank nodded. The feeling of the kiss lingered on his skin long after he had walked away.

He couldn’t remember ever before feeling the same amount of dread that he felt on that drive home. He found himself driving much too slow and waiting at stoplights for much too long, as if to put off the inevitable conversation that would happen the second he saw his mother. He wished he could have had Gerard with him, but obviously that wouldn’t help matters in the slightest, seeing as Gerard was effectively the thing they were about to argue about. Either way, though, he never felt quite as peaceful as he did when he was with Gerard.

He slammed the car door much too loudly when he parked in the driveway, as if to give his mom some warning that he was home so that she could prepare herself to scream at him.

The first thing he noticed when he came through the door was that the kitchen window was open, which meant that his mother had snapped and dug out the pack of smokes she kept in her dresser for when she got stressed. When he rounded the corner he saw her sitting at the table with a cigarette in her mouth, leg’s crossed and hair coming out of its usually neat bun. Across the room, Frank’s father was leaning against the sink.

“Dad.”

His dad didn’t look up at him, just let out a sigh. His mom ashed her cigarette into the abandoned coffee cup on the table and finally turned to face him. “Your father drove all the way down here from the city."

“I can see that.”

She rubbed a hand over her eyes, leaning back in her chair, and took a deep drag on her cigarette. There was a painfully long pause before she finally spoke. “You’re not… you’re not gay, Frankie.”

“Don’t tell me what I am,” he said quietly, feeling his cheeks burn.

“You’ve had girlfriends, though.”

He pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes for a second, trying not to freak out completely. “Yeah, I know. And I liked them.”

“So what happened?” She got to her feet, cigarette seemingly forgotten in her hand. “What on earth _possessed_ you to start acting like this?”

“Nothing happened! Shit, you really don’t get it, do you?”

His father made a move as if to tell him off for swearing, but Frank gave him no time to speak.

“I didn’t _choose_ this,” he continued. “You really think I’d choose to have everyone hate me over… over who I want to be with?”

“Sweetie, we don’t hate you!” She rushed forwards and grabbed his shoulders as if she was about to hug him, but paused. “We… we just don’t understand why you’re doing this. You _know_ it’s wrong. We want the best for you.”

“But I _don’t_ think it’s wrong, mom!” She flinched at the volume of his voice, but he didn’t stop. “I don’t see what’s so horrible about it! I don’t understand how you can think you’re being loving by telling people it’s wrong to love someone!”

She didn’t say anything. Her cheeks had gone slightly pink, and she was still gripping onto his shoulders, chest rising and falling visibly as she took deep breaths. Frank twisted out of her grip, turning to his dad. “Where do you stand on this, then? You gonna tell me I’m a disappointment and I’m going to hell as well?”

He sighed slowly, leaning against the counter. “I… I expected more from you.”

Somehow, that hurt more than the rest of it. The fact that he hadn’t seen his dad in months, and even before that it had only ever been for an occasional weekend visit, and he came back just to inform frank that he was a let down.

He didn’t have anything else to say to them, and he didn’t want to hear anything else that they might have to say.

He’d known this was coming. He’d never have been able to avoid the conversation for ever, and his mom had been suspicious for weeks, but that didn’t make him feel any better. On shaky legs, he walked up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door behind him and leaning forwards to rest his head against it, hand on the doorknob.

“Don’t think we’re letting you go to see him!” His mom shouted, presumably standing at the bottom of the stairs.

The anger coursing through him seemed to flow to the very tips of his fingers, and before he knew it he was cursing in pain and staring down at the dent in the wall where he’d punched it with all of his might, so hard that a couple of his knuckles split.

He was _not_ going to cry. He’d already cried enough over this. Breathing deeply, he walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and sat down, staring at his bleeding hand and subconsciously pulling open the drawer in his nightstand, where his crucifix had lived since that first time Gerard had come over. The cross was cold and smooth in his hand, slightly dusty, as he lay down on his side and gripped it, staring at Jesus. He ran his thumb over the face of the little figurine. It looked sad.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, curled up in a little ball and clinging onto the crucifix, but it was long enough for the sun to set and the smell of his mom cooking dinner to drift up the stairs. He didn’t get up, though. He finally rolled onto his back and stand up at the ceiling - the same ceiling he’d stared up at every night for almost all of his life. He wasn’t sure at what point this all stopped feeling like his life, and started feeling like a movie, or like something happening to someone else that he was just observing. It didn’t seem real, to be twenty years old and grounded because of something like _this_ , something he’d always known would get him in trouble but something he never thought he would have to face head on.

He went to bed hungry, not going downstairs as a matter of principle. He woke up even hungrier, but only left his room to go to the bathroom. As he crossed the hallway he could hear his parents talking in hushed voices downstairs, not loud enough to hear what they were saying. But he didn’t need to hear. He knew exactly what they would be saying. When he returned to his room after taking a shower, his cellphone had vanished from his nightstand.

When he did finally venture downstairs in the mid afternoon, his parents were no where to be seen. Presumably his mom had gone to work, and his dad was off doing God knows what. There was a reason he left; he pretty much couldn’t stand being in that house with them, stuck in that little town, so it was hardly surprising that he seemed to have scarpered as soon as possible.

He could go to Gerard’s house. That’s all he wanted to do, all he needed to get away from all of it, but his car keys weren’t hanging on the hook by the door where they normally lived. It was a long enough walk that even if he’d set off right then, he would have had to leave Gerard’s the second he got there if he wanted to make sure he was back before his mom got home. Cursing quietly, he had to resign himself to the fact he was stuck. The only light at the end of the tunnel was the knowledge that in four days he would go to work again and see Gerard, and they would work something out. He knew they would.

Hours passed by incredibly slowly when all there was to do was sit around with his thoughts, or try and drown them out with music or movies, or smoke out the window just to occupy his hands for a while. He didn’t even have any pot, so he couldn’t make things feel slightly more bearable by getting high. When his mom got home from work, he half expected her to pack him off in the car to church or something, but she didn’t even come upstairs to see him for a good few hours. He stayed shut away in his room until she finally knocked on his door softly. “Dinner’s ready.”

He debated ignoring her and just wasting away in there, not leaving his room at all until she gave him back his phone and car keys and stopped treating him like a grounded twelve year old. He didn’t, though. He thought he could just about manage tweets minutes or so across from her at the dinner table.

And those twenty minutes were easy enough, because she didn’t speak once until both their plates were cleared and she was carrying them over to the sink.

“Your father’s staying in a motel,” she said, just as he got to his feet. As she spoke, there was an almost comically times clap of thunder outside, the rain still lashing the house.

“Why? Doesn’t he have another family to fuck off back to?”

She winced slightly, not meeting his eye. “I’m sure they’ll survive without him.”

“You think it’s more important that he hangs around here while you decide how you’re gonna punish me?”

He was getting really sick of her long, tense silences, and the way she looked at him every time he spoke, as if he was some kind of invalid.

The next twenty four hours or so passed just as slowly and painfully, Frank still staying in his room until he knew his mother had gone to work for the day and saying the bare minimum at dinner. As he stood under the scaldingly hot water in the shower, he wondered how long it would take for him to go completely insane. Something told him it wouldn’t be much longer, at the rate he was going.

It was only in the middle of the night, when it was pitch black and still raining outside his bedroom window, when he decided it was safe to sneak downstairs without waking his mom up and hunt for his phone. She probably was still naive enough and thought too highly of him to suspect he’d go looking for it, so he suspected it wouldn’t be hidden particularly well, especially considering he’d hardly left his room for the past two days. His suspicions proved right; after hunting through almost every cupboard in the kitchen as silently as he could, he pulled open a drawer set high above the counter and rummaged around blindly until he found it. A wave of relief washed through him as he watched it slowly turn back on, until it came back to life and started pinging loudly with incoming messages, and he panicked and shoved it into his pocket to muffle the sound. Once he was confident it had shut up, he started reading them.

10 missed calls from Ray, 54 missed calls from Mikey’s number, and even more texts all saying roughly the same thing.

_R u ok?_

_Is ur mom mad?_

_Everything ok?_

_Want me 2 come over?_

_Frank?_

_Did they take ur phone?_

_??_

As frank read them all, trying to keep his breathing as level as possible, the phone started to ring. He hit answer before even looking at the number, just wanting to shut the noise up. “Hello?”

“Frank!”

“Gerard.”

“I’ve called, like-”

“Fifty-four times.” He closed the kitchen door quietly so that he could lean against the counter and talk without the risk of being overheard, smiling to himself. The sound of Gerard’s voice alone made him feel so, so much better.

“Are you okay?”

He sighed. “I… yeah. I’m okay. She took my phone. And my car keys. And my dad drove down from the city, and they’re both so mad at me.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” He took another deep breath. “I’m just hoping she lets me go to work. So I can see you. I don’t know how I’m gonna make it another four days, though.”

“Frank, are you downstairs?”

His brow furrowed. “Yeah, why?”

There was a long, drawn out pause before Gerard said, “go outside.”

His heart skipped a beat. He hesitated slightly before crossing the kitchen and resting a hand on the door handle. “Gerard?”

Frank opened the front door and almost dropped his phone. Gerard stood at the end of the path in the pouring rain, shivering, Mikey’s phone pressed to his ear.He couldn’t tell if Gerard was actually crying, because his face was drenched from the rain, but his eyes looked a little puffy and he was biting his bottom lip so hard it looked painful. Frank was crying though, making no effort to stem the flow of tears from his eyes as he stared out into the rain, clinging onto the door handle because he wasn’t confident that his knees weren’t about to give way entirely.

“I don’t know why I came. I didn't expect you to pick up the phone, so I guess I would have had to climb up to your bedroom window again.” Gerard had to say it loudly to be heard over the rain. Frank just hoped it wasn’t so loud that his mom would wake up. “It… it would have been better if I hadn’t come.”

Frank didn't need to think too hard to realise that Gerard, once again, was going against what they both wanted because he didn't want to get Frank in trouble. “Don’t say that. _Please_ don’t say that.”

There had been other times where Gerard’s obsession with doing what was right and honourable and gentlemanly had really fucking pissed Frank off, like all of those times that he told Frank nothing could happen between them because he didn’t want to hurt Frank or get him in trouble. He knew that that’s what Gerard was doing now - trying to protect Frank by keeping his distance. But Frank was sick of it.

“I don’t care what they do to me,” he said. He didn’t bother shouting over the sound of the rain. He knew Gerard could hear him. “I don’t give a fuck.”

Gerard’s hair hung in soaking wet strands across his face, dripping down onto the ground, but from behind it Frank could see the look in his eyes, the same look he’d given Frank after the show when they’d kissed backstage, and when he’d turned up on the Ways’ doorstep drunk off his face and angry at everything.

He knew he’d won when Gerard stood up a little straighter and his bottom lip escaped from between his teeth. He hardly felt the rain hitting him as he surged forwards away from the shelter of the porch, hardly noticed the sound of the front door shutting behind him, because Gerard was stepping forwards to meet him halfway and Frank practically flung himself into Gerard’s arms. He didn’t care that the neighbours could definitely see them, because his lips were against Gerard’s again and it felt like it had been years since they’d last kissed, and the feeling of Gerard’s tongue in his mouth made him feel like he was about to shatter into a thousand pieces. He couldn’t breathe because of how hard it was raining and how he felt like it would be impossible to break the kiss to snatch a real breath, but he didn’t care because Gerard was clinging to him like he was never going to let go, his fingers digging into Frank’s sides so hard that it hurt. It was all tongue and teeth and hands flying over each other’s skin and Frank panting into Gerard’s mouth and ignoring how cold he was from both the rain and from Gerard himself.

At long last, Gerard pulled his mouth away from Frank’s by a fraction of an inch, their foreheads still pressed together and his hands still roving over Frank’s torso. “I lied.”

“About what?” It came out as almost a gasp.

“The thrall. Vampires don’t have a power to draw people in. I made it up because you seemed so freaked out.”

Frank’s heart jumped in his throat as he choked in a breath through the rain. “It was all… it was just us?”

“It was just us.”

And he understood why Gerard had lied. He’d been terrified of his own feelings, and the belief that there was something else to it was reassuring, because the way he felt about Gerard sort of made him feel like he was drowning. But he didn’t care anymore.

He just wanted to keep kissing Gerard forever. His chest ached with want, even as he _was_ kissing him, because he just wanted more and more and more. The rain didn’t get any softer as Frank dragged Gerard up the path and pushed open the front door with the hand not gripping the front of Gerard’s hoodie, and he hardly noticed the puddles of water that they were leaving in the kitchen and up the stairs, because Gerard’s mouth hardly left his the whole way up to his bedroom. He didn’t care that their discarded clothes were soaking the carpet, or that he was going to be in so much trouble for all of this. The feeling of Gerard so close to him, above him and against him and inside him, made his eyes well up with tears of relief, and he did nothing to hold back the mutters and gasps and moans of “I love you” every time Gerard pushed into him or ducked his head to mouth at Frank’s neck. He’d never cried _during_ sex before, but he couldn’t stop himself. Gerard’s cold hand cupped his cheek, his thumb swiping away the tears, and his moans were intermingled with whispers of “you okay?” and Frank just nodded and clung onto Gerard as if he was the only thing keeping him stuck to the earth.

Their rain-soaked hair was probably leaving wet patches on his pillows, Frank thought, as they lay next to each other and Frank caught his breath, their hands tangled together at their sides. He twisted his other hand in Gerard’s hair, holding him close. “When you go home, I’m coming with you.”

Gerard pressed his lips to the side of Frank’s neck in a chaste kiss. “Yeah.”

He let Gerard suck little bruises into the fragile skin of his throat and jaw and chest, listening to the rain against the window. He knew his mom wouldn’t come upstairs in the morning, because she was avoiding him like the plague, so he just closed his eyes and pretended that they were the only two people in the world, that there wasn’t a bible and rosary and crucifix in the drawer of his nightstand,like Gerard didn’t represent everything his mother hated.

He must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he knew he was jolting awake as a clap of thunder echoed around the room. The sky outside was so dark from rainclouds that it was hard to even tell that it was morning. The rain itself had gotten even heavier; it was pounding against the glass of the window, and Frank could hear the drip of the leak in the hallway that opened back up every time there was a storm. Gerard had propped himself up against the headboard so that Frank’s head was half in his lap, and was looking down at him, biting his lip.

They got dressed in silence. Their clothes were still soaking wet on the floor where they’d torn them off each other, so Frank gave Gerard a pair of sweatpants and a shirt to put on, knowing that all of his jeans would be much too small. He filled a backpack with clean shirts and socks and underwear, and all of the money stashed in his desk, a select few CDs and DVDs, and his toothbrush and cigarettes and black nail polish. He tucked his rosary into the small pocket on the front, Gerard facing the other way as he twisted the beads into a little loop to stop them getting tangled. He walked over to his guitar where it was leaning against the wall next to his amp and rested a hand on the fretboard gently, almost as if he was saying goodbye to it, at least for the time being. He knew he couldn’t bring it with him.

Gerard stood leaning against his bedroom door as he packed, tugging on the too-small t shirt which kept riding up over his stomach. When Frank took a deep breath and turned back around to face him, Gerard gave him a sad little smile.

The finality of turning off his bedroom light, giving the room last once over through slightly tear-clouded eyes, made his stomach turn. There were posters on the wall that he’d pinned up in middle school, faded and peeling now, and framed photos of him and his mom at the beach, and him and his dad at Disney World, and him and Ray under the banner outside a Misfits show, and him on stage with Pencey Prep. There were first drafts of songs he’d written tucked inside books on the bookshelf, and loose guitar picks on the carpet, and a stack of old music magazines next to his bed, and old school textbooks that he forgot to return. His whole life was in that room, in that house, the only house he’d ever lived in, and he had no idea when he’d be back.

Gerard squeezed his shoulder gently, and he started.

“Ready?”

He nodded.

As they walked down the stairs he could hear the radio playing, and the clatter of dishes in the sink. He had to force himself to put one foot in front of the other, gripping Gerard’s hand as he walked into the kitchen. His mother had her back to the door, doing the washing up, and was humming along to the music quietly, but must have heard them come in. The second she turned around, holding a plate, she let out a little gasp. “Frankie?”  
Frank could see her eyes flitting between him and Gerard, lingering on the bruises that must be showing on his neck.

“Morning, Mrs Iero,” said Gerard, in the same polite voice that he’d used last time he’d spoken to her.

Her mouth was still open, and even though she was wearing rubber gloves, Frank could see that she had the soapy plate in a death grip.

“I need my cellphone back, mom. And my car keys.”

She looked as if he’d gone mad. “Frankie, what…” she looked back at Gerard, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not welcome here.”

Frank gripped Gerard’s hand tighter. “I’m going out. I need my keys and phone.”

With a crash, the plate slipped from her grip and shattered on the floor, making Frank wince. She didn’t seem bothered, though. “You’re not going anywhere, Frank.”

“You can’t stop me,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you’re not gonna give me my phone back, fine.” He knew that his stuff was still in the drawer, so while his mom watched in silence he crossed the kitchen, reached up to the top shelf and grabbed them. She didn't speak as he took a deep breath, hitched his bag higher onto his shoulder and reached to pull his jacket off the hook by the door, but the sound of his mother letting out a sob made him pause.

“Frankie, please. You… you know I’m doing this because I love you.”

He decided it would be easier if he didn’t turn around, if he couldn’t see the look on her face, so he just pulled his jacket and an umbrella off the hook, gripped Gerard’s hand tighter, and left. She didn’t try to follow them.

The rain continued relentlessly for the whole day and into the evening, the gentle rumble of it audible even from the basement. Frank didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything, though, so he was perfectly content to spend the next twelve hours hiding inside, barely speaking.

When they first got to the Ways’ house, he let Gerard spread him out on the mattress and press kisses to every inch of his skin, each of his tattoos, the jagged scar on his arm from the shard of glass bottle, the bruises and bite marks on his neck. They did have sex again, slowly and carefully just like the first time, and afterwards Gerard let Frank curl up into ball and just cry, and didn’t ask him questions. When he did finally fall asleep, it was with Gerard’s arm around him and Gerard’s chest pressed to his back. He’d finally gotten used to the feeling of the completely still body next to him, no breath or heartbeat, and the dead silence of it made him feel a little bit more at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew ok sorry about that
> 
> ANYWAY as usual, leave a comment or kudos if you're enjoying so far, feel free to drop me a message on my Tumblr (p4tr0ns4int) or Twitter (mimimustdie) if you're interested in being a beta or if you just wanna say hi!
> 
> Thanks again for sticking around for this long :) I never expected to keep going with this so the fact that I'm at 50k now is ridiculous haha


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